by Jody Wallace
Which meant his fixation on staying with her shouldn’t give her such a secret thrill.
Elizabeth would never cooperate, anyway. The mayor might have come to accept that the Shipborn were trying their best to help, but that didn’t mean she liked them. Adam’s past link to the Shipborn would tip the old gal over the edge where he was concerned.
His eyes narrowed. “A military base doesn’t sound all that great, either.”
“Chanute’s not a bad idea,” Sarah encouraged. “You found him close to here, and he already knows you. You could prep your people to help him through the transition.”
“You convince Elizabeth, then,” Claire said. The looky-loos from last night had wanted to have words with Adam—violent words. They’d gone straight to the mayor, and Elizabeth hadn’t tried to calm them down. If only they’d been the movie fan type instead of the vengeful type. Once they knew he was alive, half the planet’s population would want Adam dead for failing to stop the apocalypse. Eventually they’d all find out, whether through official channels or the eyewitnesses. “I don’t have as much control over people as you think.”
“You and Elizabeth have more control over your people than anywhere on the East Coast. We can’t send him into that.”
The East Coast and the refugee camps, under martial law, had endured chaos, warfare, food shortages, and daemon raids, the flying monsters curious about any dense pockets of life force. While they might not be experiencing the random shade deaths that the buffer zone settlements were, it was no place for an amnesiac movie star. But neither was anywhere near Claire. Not with the way his muscles kept hypnotizing her.
The easiest way for her to resist temptation was to remove it from the premises. She had a poor track record of turning down sex, because there’d been no particular reason to turn it down—until Frances. Now she avoided it because all her free time, such as it was, went to her daughter.
“So don’t send him east. But he’s absolutely not staying at Camp Chanute.” Claire raised her hands. “I have enough to deal with. I don’t need a fight with the mayor and a back-from-the-dead…guy.”
“I’m staying with you.” Adam met her gaze. “That’s what I want. That’s what I’m doing. I’ll talk to your mayor myself.”
Ship responded before Claire could. “Sentients do have free will. His free will should be respected.”
“This isn’t Hollywood, Adam. You don’t always get what you want,” Claire said irritably. Irritated with Ship for butting in. Irritated with Adam for disregarding her preference. Irritated with herself because she couldn’t make up her mind about the risks he posed. She was usually more decisive.
Adam’s eyes glinted. “You keep talking about Hollywood. Was I part of the industry? Is that why you all know me?”
“Claire,” Sarah warned, “please be careful. Until we know more, we can’t suffuse him with data.”
“You’re the one who wants me around him,” Claire argued. “My big mouth is just one of the many reasons why it’s a bad idea. And I’m a terrible nursemaid.”
“I’m not sick.” Amusement twitched the corners of his mouth. “Apparently I was dead, but I’m not sick.”
“How do we know if you were dead? You had to have been somewhere. Sarah, you guys need to look into that silver capsule.” Claire forcefully changed the subject. Adam knew about the UO—he’d seen it and remembered it. He didn’t remember being a punk-ass screen king, and there was no way they could keep it from him for long. Better if he relocated to Yellowstone where his environment could be regulated. “One of my guys theorizes it’s a stasis pod.”
“Niko is assigning a team lead by Raniya GelDan to study it,” Ship said. “Raniya is what you would call my personal physician, Adam, an IT specialist.”
“IT?” Adam asked. “Because you’re a computer?”
“In a sense,” Ship said. “Though I am far more than a computer. IT stands for Interstellar Transportation. My previous physician was Dr. Bronson, who was an actual Ship specialist. Raniya and I are making do.”
Adam rubbed his arms. “Interstellar, huh? Did you call Raniya because the silver thing I was in came from outer space?”
His conclusion made sense to Claire—how he’d come to be in a spaceship, though, was the mystery.
Ship, however, wouldn’t confirm. “We do not know. We must first secure the area and scan for entity presence before we can begin research.”
When the Shipborn descended dirtside, extra care had to be taken so there was no chance a shade could attack them. Once a planet reached what was called the leviathan point, if the shades tasted Shipborn DNA, they summoned the leviathan—a massive, unconquerable entity that was the bane of the Shipborn fleet.
Shades ate sentients. Leviathans ate Ships.
“You’re right to be careful. The buffer zone isn’t as secure as it used to be, and there were definitely shade traces at the site,” Claire confirmed. Granted, entities weren’t the only danger. In addition to unified towns like Chanute, the buffer zone was filled with survivalists and dregs who refused to cooperate with the Shipborn and the United States. It was like they’d been waiting for the opportunity to set up their own fiefdoms or some shit.
“A stasis pod is a logical explanation,” Sarah said. “While we do have a type of hyperbaric chamber that preserves life for a time, it wouldn’t explain how Adam came to be in one or how it was detached from Ship.”
“We aren’t missing any of our pods,” Ship added helpfully. “An individual unit wouldn’t have functioned for the entire time Adam has been missing.”
“Which is how long?” Adam asked.
“I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you that.” Sarah blinked three times—a sign she was probably accessing her sensor array. “About two and a half Terran years.”
“Shit.” Adam ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s a long time. How old does that make me?”
“You’re in your early thirties, chronologically.” Sarah slipped her tablet into her personal medical kit. “Physically, I would have put you in your early twenties if we didn’t have historical records that prove otherwise.”
“Historical records he’s going to come in contact with at Camp Chanute, no matter how much I try to maintain his status quo.” Claire patted a chair back for emphasis. “That’s another reason why you should fly him to Yellowstone. No Blu-rays, magazines, or nosy neighbors.”
Adam suddenly took her hand. She tried to yank away, but he was surprisingly strong. Rather than engage in a childish tussle, she pretended she didn’t care he was touching her. She pretended she didn’t care that his hand, the press of his fingertips, was doing thrilling things to her insides.
“I won’t get in your way, Sheriff,” he promised, “but I’m staying in Camp Chanute. With you. You allow survivors to join you, and that describes me. I read the sign.”
They’d posted a welcome to citizens of Terra at the front barrier of the former air force base, which had been converted to a number of things after being decommissioned. Now it was their home for as long as they could manage it.
“We welcome survivors who don’t cause trouble,” Claire said stiffly. Only her outsides were stiff. Her insides were a muddle of confusion and physical attraction.
Well, hell. He wasn’t just academically hot—she was hot for him. What a complete pain in her ass.
Adam placed his other hand on top of hers. The solidity of his grasp unnerved her. “I won’t cause trouble. Scout’s honor.”
Claire’s breath caught in her throat like she was some kind of ninny. She expelled it in an exasperated huff. “You don’t even remember what a Boy Scout is.”
Adam smiled slowly, his famous, sly grin rushing all over her. Up close and personal, the man was more appealing than he’d been on screen. Granted, she’d hated his movies, but in the flesh, he was impossible to dismiss.
Or extricate herself from. Claire squeezed his fingers. Hard. At least Sarah couldn’t see that she was childishly tryin
g to outmuscle Adam.
In a moment they’d be arm wrestling.
“I promise on your honor, then. I won’t cause trouble.” His finger caressed the inside of her wrist. Brief, subtle. Could be an accident. Could be he wanted to get a rise out of her.
Claire wouldn’t give it to him.
Okay, fine, she probably would. She had a quick temper, barely mellowed by motherhood. “You’re already trouble. I should be working right now, not babysitting you.”
He tugged lightly, and she almost took a step closer to him. “Good thing I’m not a baby.”
Sarah adjusted her sensor array. “May I propose a compromise? Accompany us to deliver the medicines to Riverbend, and then Adam can see Yellowstone Base for himself. The trip doesn’t take long. Can you spare the time, Claire?”
“Maybe.” She glanced at Adam. “Will you give the base a fair shot? It isn’t a prison.”
“If you come, I’ll agree to go look,” he said with a small smile. “Since I get to fly in a spaceship.”
“Technically our medical vessel is not appropriate for extended space travel,” Ship clarified. “Raniya’s people were not able to make that many alternations to it. It is only capable of trips inside a solar system. I, on the other hand, am considered a spaceship.”
“We’ll come.” Claire didn’t want this burden or the uncertainty Adam represented, for her people or her peace of mind. Hopefully he’d like Yellowstone. She’d sing its praises all the way there. “But if he picks Chanute, Frannie’s coming back to Ship with you, Sarah.”
Adam let her go. She fisted her hand to erase his touch.
“Who’s Frannie?” he asked curiously. “Roommate? Pet?”
“Daughter,” Claire said gruffly.
“That was your room last night, wasn’t it?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. “We all have to share. I share with Frannie. It was the only room we could clear on short notice.”
“Let me get this straight.” His eyebrows arched, and a strange expression crossed his face. “You want your daughter to leave if I’m going to be in Camp Chanute?”
“It’s a scheduled visit to her father, Sarah’s husband Niko.” The visit wasn’t scheduled for another week, but Sarah didn’t correct her.
“General Nikolas,” Adam said. “The guy in charge of Ship.”
“It is more of a collaboration,” Ship demurred. “We are linked but Nikolas is not in charge.”
Claire redirected as well as she could. “Niko and I have joint custody of Frannie. Mostly because I like Sarah so much.”
Adam stared her down. The sea-green of his eyes darkened. “Do you think I’d hurt a child?”
Her redirect hadn’t worked. “I don’t know you,” she hedged. “There are a lot of unanswered questions about you.”
He bristled visibly—jaw clenched and posture stiff. “I don’t know myself either, but I do know I’d never hurt a child.” He strode toward the exit of the shuttle and grabbed his coat off a hook. “What the hell kind of person was I?”
“Not somebody who’d hurt a child,” Claire called after him. One thing about Adam Alsing—he was kind to his fans. Kids, especially. He’d visited children’s hospitals wearing the various costumes from his films, whatever was most popular at the time. “Look, you don’t know the situation at Chanute like I do. Frannie’s better off on Ship for a few weeks. We’ve had some changes lately, security issues. Those shade deaths I was talking about. I’m going to be busy. It’s not about you.”
“Don’t lie to me. I realize you can’t tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”
It was completely about him. He might be amnesiac, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Come get me when the shuttle’s leaving. I need some air.” Adam yanked up his hood and exited the craft without looking back. The door slid shut behind him.
“Adam’s blood pressure was heightened when he left. I would say he was very upset,” Ship observed.
“Yeah, I could tell.” Unaccustomed guilt burned in her gut. She routinely spoke out of turn, spoke rudely, spoke whatever words she thought were needed. She was brash, bad-mannered, and bullish. She understood these things about herself, but they seldom interfered with her duties. She rarely went too far because there was always so far she needed to go, as a black woman in a society biased against women of color, as a sheriff in a post-apocalyptic town, as an able-bodied human on a planet under attack by aliens.
But she wouldn’t apologize for taking extra precautions with her daughter.
“Of course Frances can stay with us.” Sarah snapped her medical kit closed. “She’s welcome anytime.”
“I will continue reading Frances the tale of Alice in Wonderland,” Ship put in. “She seems to enjoy it. Raniya has been attempting to create a way for me to…do voices.”
“That’s all we need. You, doing voices.” Claire had lived on Ship the first couple months of Frannie’s life, luxuriating in the amenities and extra hands. But she’d grown impatient to return to her planet, needing to be dirtside where the danger was, helping people, running patrols, killing entities, and teaching her baby girl to grow up and do the same. Even though General Nikolas, Ship, the trine, and all the crewmembers had committed to the Terran cause, bending their own code to do so, the war wasn’t over by half.
With the increased activity from the shades in the past six months, the war, it seemed, was just getting started.
More and more, Claire’s duties kept her tied to Camp Chanute and Nikolas tied to Ship. All the buffer zone settlements were becoming less suitable for children, but not all parents had the co-parents Claire did, ones who resided on Ship with all its advantages. She had to keep Chanute stable for those kids, too. Deep down, she didn’t think Adam would destabilize her town, but he threatened to destabilize her confidence. She couldn’t show weakness as sheriff. Or as a mother.
Sarah glanced between Claire and the shuttle door. “You should go after him. We’ll depart in five minutes.”
“You’re probably right.” Reluctantly, Claire did as suggested. How she hated apologizing. She was right to be cautious, but Sarah, Niko, Ship—they all wanted her to take care of Adam, anyway. Figure him out. Keep him safe.
Like she was capable of handling the situation with the kid gloves the guy deserved.
It wasn’t every day you came back from the dead. If he reacted this poorly to the simple fact that he was a problematic and unknown variable, how would he react when he found out he’d nearly destroyed the world?
Chapter Four
As he stared out the shuttle windows, the sweep of crystalline blue sky in every direction brought tears to Adam’s eyes. With the patchy snow on the ground reflecting light, the sun seemed extra bright. It brought back memories of airline travel, seeing the ground from this high up, but nothing he could recall specifically.
Every time he tried focus on anything beyond basic, sensory details, the whole memory slipped away like water through a colander.
He’d taken a seat in the front compartment, which was separated from the waiting room, the lab he’d been in, and other areas. Sarah and the pilot were at the front, in the cockpit. Windows surrounded the cabin, providing everyone a good view. Claire, across from him, passed a tablet computer from Sarah to Cullin, and two soldiers Adam assumed were aliens sat on either side of him.
Hemming him in.
They seemed as human as Sarah and Cullin seemed to be—as human as he supposedly was. The fancy machines had affirmed his species, but Claire was only willing to shelter him in Chanute because other people wanted her to.
So he gazed idly at the horizon, trying not to brood over the fact Claire wanted him gone, until he realized he was watching a couple of dots in the sky that weren’t specks on the window. They’d grown in size since Adam first noticed them.
What birds did he think he could see from this distance, anyway? Condors?
He nudged the soldier on his right. “Hey, are those some of your ships?”
> The guy glanced in the direction Adam pointed. “I don’t see anything.” His accent wasn’t familiar, but Adam didn’t have trouble understanding him.
“Above the horizon.” He knew zero about aeronautical distances and had no idea if he’d known in his former life, either. Hell, he wasn’t even sure which direction they’d traveled. Since they were eventually going to check out the Yellowstone base, he assumed they must be going west.
The soldier blinked a few times, squinted, and frowned. His sensor array lit up faintly. “Horatio, focus the shuttle sensors east northeast.”
“In a sec,” the pilot replied. Cullin turned, too, staring at the dots. “I’m downloading some entity map updates.”
Like everyone else, Claire studied the sky in the direction Adam had indicated, but her expression didn’t change. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting him at Camp Chanute. He didn’t know who he was, where he’d been. The connection he’d imagined between them didn’t exist. She’d helped him because she’d help any naked person she found shivering in the snow.
Wherever he’d been—say, Hollywood—he’d taken care of himself. His body boasted a lot of muscles and little fat. He’d caught Claire inspecting him more than once with a certain appreciation, but her admiration of his physique didn’t make up for the fact she didn’t want him around.
The pilot finished his task and flicked some switches on the console. “I’ll be fracked. Looks like we’ve got a pack of daemons trailing us. Dr. Sarah, should we take evasive maneuvers?”
“Shit on a stick. Why didn’t the sensors pick them up?” Claire complained, her brow furrowing.
“They’ve only just come into range,” Horatio explained. “We had to reduce power to scanners and thrusters on any shuttles retrofitted with weaponry.”
Cullin rose and hung over Sarah’s shoulder, staring at the information on the console. “It’s daemons, all right. Too late for evasive maneuvers. The bastards will be on the civilians in the settlement next.”