I realized that, if there were any survivors, I might be their only chance. I inhaled deeply and was instantly struck by what I breathed. The air was different, cleaner, almost sharp in its purity. It seemed to take less effort to fill my lungs and satisfy my need for oxygen. I let out the breath slowly and methodically, counting each second as a measuring stick. Then, I shakily got to my feet again.
My eyes had finally adjusted to the white light, and I was instantly paralyzed with awe as I saw my surroundings. The peculiar grass seemed to stretch for miles on flat, limitless land until it met with an ethereal sky of turquoise and lavender swirls. Despite the sunlight, I could clearly make out the pricked pattern of winking stars between each elegant flourish. Punctuating the landscape, there were several trees, widespread and alone in their roots. They each boasted at least eight long, gnarled branches which extended in all directions and were adorned with queer tendrils of leafy flora. Everything seemed to be in Technicolor, brilliant and utterly brazen in each hue, almost as if from a painting. I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly blinking just to make sure that the crash hadn’t injured my eyesight—or my brain, for that matter.
I turned back around to look at the Paragon. The ship was utterly decimated and looked like nothing more than a pile of rubble from a junkyard. Thick flames licked the creases between bent and broken metal, and I noticed immediately that the flames were unusual in their color: a rather salmon-like hue. Dark gray smoke poured continuously from every inch of the spacecraft in bursts so thick they looked more like cement than smoke. I wanted to cry. There were almost certainly others inside, still alive and frightened, but to attempt to rescue them would basically be a suicide mission.
There had to be something around that could help me. I scanned the visible perimeter of the ship before glancing around the foreign terrain, searching for anything I could use to clear a path or push the burning debris aside. Before I located anything, however, movement caught my attention. In the distance, I saw the form of somebody who seemed very human approaching. I felt panic swell in my chest, and I wondered if I should hide. It was possible that, on this strange planet, whoever that was would not be friendly to me.
Before I could decide if I wanted to hide or to ask for help, though, I saw the humanoid reach to its side and unsheathe a weapon. It looked like a scimitar, but it glowed a bright fuchsia color and seemed to pulsate. I knew that thing had seen me and hiding would do no good now, so I stood with my feet planted firmly in place, waiting for whatever was to come.
As he drew nearer, I wondered if my eyes were deceiving me. He was very human in form; tall with two arms and two legs, and a head, of course. His face looked like any other human’s face as well, but his skin was blue. It wasn’t the shade of sickly blue caused by suffocation, either; it was a beautiful, hydrangea kind of blue, and it seemed almost translucent. I realized that what I interpreted as translucence was actually a pale shimmer practically indiscernible if not for the white light of the alien sun dancing off of it.
His eyes were trained on me, unmoving and focused; I lost myself in them for the briefest of moments. They were small, but they were intense in both their color and their expression. He clearly had an iris and a pupil as human eyes did, but his iris was ghostly white. His eyes were set beneath a stern brow and above a pair of exquisitely-sculpted cheekbones.
I was so captivated by his eyes I almost didn’t notice his body. When I did, I was just as enthralled. As sculpted and angular as his cheekbones were, his abdomen put them to shame. I could clearly see each and every muscle, so defined that the indents between them looked like marker-drawn lines; as he walked, they flexed and rippled. His arms were equally as toned, but he wasn’t beefy as I would have expected by looking at his stomach. They were lithe and athletic with evident but gentle curves where his biceps and triceps were. I couldn’t see his legs, for he was wearing a pair of pants made from some kind of leather I had never seen before, but I imagined they were just as impressive.
He stopped walking when he was about ten feet away from me, and we just stared at each other. I didn’t want to speak. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and I couldn’t help noticing the way he alertly gripped his weapon. He looked back at me with the same kind of wariness I felt, and then he opened his mouth.
What came out was a series of clacks and clicks and snaps, and it sounded strangely similar to the crackling of the flames behind me. They were staccato sounds which only lasted for a second, but so unusual were they that I was rendered speechless for a second. He stood there, looking at me with his weapon brandished, and I realized he was waiting for a response.
“I-I don’t understand,” I said.
My voice sounded extraordinarily weird to me. It was like I hadn’t heard myself speak in years and I’d finally broken the silence. The unsettlingly clear air made my words sound almost melodic, rather like a song. I tried to remain stock-still to avoid appearing threatening to him as I waited for some sort of conversational reciprocation.
He opened his mouth again, and I expected some more clacks. What I heard, instead, stunned me.
“Who are you?”
He had a low, growling voice which seemed predatory in its nature. His words had the same kind of staccato delivery as his clacking had. I was able to understand him, though, and it surprised me so much that I almost couldn’t answer.
“You…speak English?” I asked.
“I speak whatever language is spoken to me,” he said. He jerked his scimitar forward and repeated, “Who are you?”
“Tabitha,” I answered at once, my eyes on the sword. “Bartel.”
“You are human, Tabitha Bartel?” His eyes were unnaturally still as they stared at my face.
I started to nod before remembering I meant not to move. “Yes.”
“You are from Earth?”
“Yes,” I said again.
He stared at me a moment more before slowly-painstakingly slowly turned his gaze to the Paragon’s wreckage behind me. In the same growl, he asked, “What happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” I said. I started to turn to look at the ship as well, but the movement startled him, and he leaped forward with the scimitar extended toward me. I shrieked, my hands shooting up involuntarily to both protect myself and show him I was not a threat. He placed the tip of the weapon below my chin and used it to tilt my face up to his.
“You will not move,” he intoned.
“Okay,” I whispered. I didn’t realize I was shaking until I felt the sword jiggling slightly against my neck.
He didn’t speak as he looked back at the ship, keeping the glowing scimitar in place beneath my chin. I watched his eyes glide slowly over the broken structure, lingering on something unknown for a second or two before moving on to something else. I kept my hands up by my ears and tried not to swallow for fear of the sword puncturing my throat. There was silence between us for a long time as he just looked, and, finally, I spoke.
“Where am I?” I asked.
My words jarred him, and his ivory irises darted back to me. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer me—or, worse, that he was going to kill me—but then he responded.
“You are on the planet Albaterra,” he said.
“And…what are you?”
He studied me for a second. “I am A’li-uud.”
“Are there more of you?” For some reason, I couldn’t stop the questions. They offered me some reassurance, though I didn’t know of what nature.
Again, he studied me before replying. “Yes. We are to Albaterra what humans are to Earth.”
I wanted to nod, but I refrained. The tip of the scimitar was still resting against my throat, serving as a reminder that this creature, this A’li-uud, could kill me at any moment.
“Do you have a name?” I murmured hopefully.
This time, he didn’t answer me at all. Instead, he lunged forward unexpectedly, and I yelped. His fingers closed around my upper arm and yanked me to him with
such a powerful grip I had no chance of getting away without tearing my own arm off in the process. Trembling violently, I started to whimper, and tears flooded my eyes. I was certain I was experiencing my last moments of life.
“You are to come with me,” he said.
“What?” My voice sounded high-pitched and gravelly with fright. “Where?”
“You will come to my village to be questioned.” He shoved me forward with such strength I nearly fell on my face, and, when I straightened up, I felt him press the tip of the sword against my spine. “You will lead.”
I nodded as the tears finally started to dribble down my cheeks and took a step forward. Then, I remembered the other crew members and stopped dead in my tracks, not even thinking I should warn him in case he continued to walk and ended up spearing me clean through.
“The others,” I said loudly. “There might be others. There were ninety-seven of us. Some may have survived the crash.”
“They are not your concern,” he growled.
“I can’t just leave them to die!” I cried tearfully, now weeping freely.
I anticipated being told to shut up, to keep walking, to do as I was told, but he said none of those things. Instead, he was quiet for a beat, and then he spoke.
“If there are any survivors, my warriors will find them.”
“Will they kill them?” I asked.
“They will be ordered to bring them back safely to the village,” he told me. His voice was calm and steady, and it sounded so genuine I felt relief flood through me.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I was sure he wouldn’t be able to hear me, as my words were quiet and he was standing behind me, but he replied at once, and I realized his hearing was exponentially better than a human’s.
“You are welcome, Tabitha Bartel. Now, walk.”
Chapter Five
Rex
The Finding
I had seen humans in Elder recollections and surveillance logs, but I had never met one in person. She was different than I had expected. From what I knew of humans, they were self-destructive creatures with a paralyzing fear of the unknown and self-serving morals. They invented reasons for the things they couldn’t explain and dismissed the things they could. Abuse of their land, their race, and their existence was instinctual for them, and self-preservation took precedence over the greater good.
Tabitha Bartel skewered those notions.
It was possible, of course, she’d wanted to save her fellow humans to ensure herself allies. It was also possible she’d desired to be lauded for her heroism. I had heard her words in the wind, though, and they had whispered of the honest desire to rescue the others for the sake of nothing more than the sheer value of life; that was something I’d thought impossible of a human.
Had she never requested their rescue, I would have instructed my warriors to save them anyway. The decision of their fate did not lie on my shoulders alone; it was to be the responsibility of the entire Elder Council. Her genuine plea, however, ensured safety for her crewmates that they would otherwise not have had. My warriors would be commanded to spill no blood and cause no harm to any human alive from the destruction. As for Tabitha Bartel, I would question her myself.
I was taking her back to my parents’ house. It was much closer than my own, and my house was also guarded and staffed. I didn’t want anyone knowing I’d brought back a human yet.
When we arrived, I said, “Stop.”
She froze immediately. I stepped in front of her and looked at her. I could tell she wanted to look around, but she kept her eyes firmly on mine. It was a good choice on her part.
“I will enter first. You will not run. If you do, you will die. There are creatures in the Plains that will kill you in an instant, and, if they don’t get you, I will. Follow me closely,” I instructed.
She nodded shakily, looking like her voice was stuck in her throat. I turned and opened the door, and I felt her presence within inches behind me.
The moment we stepped inside, my mother and father both looked up. They were near the cooking pot and appeared to be in a deep discussion. Upon seeing the human, however, they both responded at once. Mother sprung back and raced over to my siblings, placing her body firmly between them and Tabitha Bartel. My father had the opposite reaction; he jerked toward me in an attack stance. I coolly held up a hand to stop him.
“There was a crash. I assume it was the ship closest to Albaterra,” I told them, looking at father as I spoke. “This human was the only one I found, but she thinks there are survivors inside the ruins.”
“You didn’t kill her?” My father hissed. He was staring aggressively at the girl, and I involuntarily stepped in front of her to shield her from him. I didn’t know why I did it, but it was my natural response to the expression on his face.
“To kill her would undermine the authority of the Elder Council,” I said. “That is a Forum decision.”
“Why did you bring her here?” Mother whimpered. She was visibly trembling.
I glanced over my shoulder at Tabitha Bartel and saw she was looking between my parents and me with a mixture of fright and confusion on her face. I realized I had reverted back to A’li-uud dialect speaking to them, but I continued in the language, not feeling she should understand the conversation quite yet.
“I have staff and guards, mother. I don’t want more people knowing I have her until necessary.”
“Isn’t that undermining the authority of the Elder Council?” Father asked pointedly.
I turned my gaze back to him, and I felt myself standing a little straighter with the power of my Elderhood. He seemed to shrink slightly beneath the weight of my expression.
“You may be my father,” I said quietly, “but I am still your king.”
He looked furious, but he kept silent.
“I need you to dispatch the warriors to the crash site. All survivors are to be extracted and brought to confinement. Any warrior who harms a human in the slightest will be executed; be sure they understand this. Tell nobody of this human.”
Father looked as though he wanted to argue, but he turned to my mother with a small nod and exited the house, sidling past Tabitha Bartel cautiously. When the door closed behind him, I said to mother, “I will be taking her upstairs to my bedroom to interrogate her. Stay down here with Igno and Risa.”
“Yes, son,” she murmured, clutching my siblings to her.
I motioned for the human to follow me and led her up the staircase to what used to be my bedroom. Once inside, I closed the door behind us and pointed to the bed.
“Sit.”
She obeyed. As she sat, she looked surprised by something, and I realized she was probably unfamiliar with virtually everything she saw, touched, and heard.
“Are you going to kill me?” She asked in a small voice.
For the first time since finding her, I was able to properly take in what I saw. Her hair was dark brown, much like the spots on hicorn, which fell past her shoulders in loose but bouncy curls. It looked as soft as the prairie grass, and I actually found myself wanting to touch it. Her eyes were fixated on me in wide, fearful rounds, but I noticed they were almost the same color blue of the mid-morning sky. She had a figure similar to Pugna’ta, but her human curves were slightly curvier. She didn’t sport Pugna’ta’s muscular ripples. She was beautiful in a way I’d never considered before, beautiful in a way I had never been exposed to.
“No,” I said finally. “Not yet, at least.”
I saw her eyes fill with liquid, and then a droplet leaked from the corner of one and spilled down her cheek. It was an intoxicating sight to behold, almost majestic in a way.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She looked at me in confusion as a second droplet dribbled along her nose-line. “What do you mean?”
“Your eyes,” I said, motioning toward them with one hand. “What is happening?”
“Oh,” she said quickly, brushing her palm over both eyes and sniffling. “I’m crying
. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you doing that?”
She looked at me as if I was crazy. “Because I-I’m scared.”
I leaned against the wall opposite her and watched as she wiped away more of the droplets. I found her more fascinating by the second, but I didn’t know why. Even stranger than that was my lack of fear. Nothing about her made me feel threatened. In fact, I felt an urge to reassure her, to let her know there was no reason to be scared, even though I couldn’t be sure that that was true.
“What is the name of your ship?” I asked, diving into questions to avoid any more of the strange emotions I was having.
“The Paragon,” she said with a sniffle.
“What was the Paragon doing in Andromeda?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” she said, looking up at me. No more droplets were skimming her cheeks, but her eyes looked red-rimmed and a little swollen. “I was just the chef.”
“Why were you onboard?”
At this question, her eyes dropped to her lap, and she looked torn between answers. When she responded, her voice was low and monotonous. “I didn’t want to be on Earth anymore.”
“Why?”
“Personal reasons,” she said defensively, looking back up at me with a defiant glint in her gaze.
I took a step forward and grabbed her chin harshly in my hand, jerking it upward. “There is no room for personal reasons here.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she stared at me with an expression of awe rather than fear or anger. I released her chin.
“Why do you look at me like that?” I asked, my tone slathered in suspicion.
“Your skin,” she said in a voice of breathy amazement. “It’s so…strange.”
Yahn: Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Alien Mates Book 4) Page 30