Mihile's Marvel - A Sci-Fi Alien Romance: The Quasar Lineage Book 12

by Pearl Tate

  A group forms as I speak, and in addition to the new males who viewed the Accord with me, I see Barek who April referred to as the news person that was present when I was rescued. He’s the one that answers. “That’s definitely a possibility.”

  Matthias is standing across the table from me between the others, looking at me with a strange expression before he asks, “What makes you think that? Was there something you noticed in their discussion that tipped you off to think that?”

  “In addition to the female leader of the Quasars in the meeting with the Ashen being the Sacred Mother Prime?” I’m confused by his question. I thought it made sense, and I’m surprised they hadn’t thought of it before.

  It’s Bren Khar, the captain of the Discovery who lets out the English word, “Fuck!” from across the room. Barek slams his hand on the table in excitement as he questions, “Are you sure?”

  Furrowing my brow, I nod. “I’m positive. I know I haven’t had vision for long, but the vibrancy matches. There’s a familial energy signature that I noticed right away among Quasars. Apparently, it’s something only I can see, since I know that Bren and Matthias are brothers. Also you and you.” I point to the male on my right and across the room to another male I don’t recognize.

  Shrugging, I try to explain. “It’s an underlying color that extends throughout your aura. There are different colors that play through during our interactions, but those dominant, familial colors seem to be steady. I’m still learning all of what I’m seeing. I’m not even positive what all the colors are called yet.” Laughing lightly, I add, “So, I assume that no one recognized her?”

  “No! The pictures we have are old, too. I’m not even sure if we have actual pictures in our archives besides artist renditions.” Matthias looks stunned, his eyes locked on me. A murmur has run through the room as everyone begins to talk about this new and interesting revelation.

  I haven’t spent too much time in the historical records since my vision has manifested, but there have been many lessons on the original Sacred Mother and her Helper followers. “There’s a possibility that there are pictures in the Sanctuary’s private records. I have access to that…” Technically, I think I now could gain access to any system if it interested me. “Should we make this tie between them known?”

  “Definitely.” Matthias squints his eyes across from me. “This makes the deception escalate to an entirely new level. Not only did our females make an agreement with the Ashen—who were at least mentors, if not genetic creators of our species—to enslave the males in our society by stunting their growth to such an extent that they become physically weaker than the females, the females also conspired through our religion to maintain that subjugation.”

  No one says a word as we all consider what this revelation and all it means to us as a society.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  - Nitara

  When I walk into the room where they’ve set up the Accord April brought to display, I see Mihile is reviewing it with a couple other men. April’s talking quietly to Chevepak near the kitchen, and she waves me over. “Ready for something to eat or drink?”

  Nodding thankfully, I let her lead me further to the side where I’m impressed to watch her utilize the strange appliances along with getting me both tea and water. “What’s going on?” I keep my voice low since everyone else is, occasionally throwing glances at the men staring transfixed at the Accord. It’s mesmerizing to watch the colors dance around them as they’re surrounded in a bubble of light.

  “Same old thing. They’re still discussing how they can possibly get this information out to the general public. So far, the best option they have is to get as many reputable news sources to have their reporters see it. They can write up what they saw. Just use numbers to get it out there, since it’ll all be hearsay.” Chevepak leaves us to join a discussion going on at the table. It looks like the guys, including Mihile, are done watching and have just started to discuss it.

  “Nothing positive on converting the ‘mind dump’ into a viewable broadcast though?” It’s such a bummer that they have this tangible proof of the conspiracy but no way to get the information out so others can see it and experience it, too. It’s just so far out and such a big change, that the likelihood of the information being suppressed is monumental. That’s definitely what would happen on Earth.

  “No.” April’s voice is hushed, and she seems to be listening to the men around the Accord table. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me into the room until we’re standing next to a few guys I recognize from the Proscribe Movement. They glance down briefly, but then they ignore us.

  “Fuck!” Bren, the captain of the Discovery is just to my right. What did I miss? What’s going on?

  My head swivels back and forth between them and April, but she just shrugs noncommittally. Barek’s at the table with Mihile and exuberantly slams his hand on the surface, asking Mihile, “Are you sure?”

  Mihile stares back, his stoic expression giving nothing away. As he nods, he raises his hands, pointing at his face. “I’m positive. I know I haven’t had vision for long, but there’s a familial energy signature that I noticed right away. It’s extremely easy for me to see that Bren and Matthias are brothers. Also, you and you.”

  He shocks everyone, including me as he points to others in the room. He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

  Wow! So his “sight” is something different altogether. He’s not using his eyes like we do, that’s for sure.

  “It’s an underlying color that extends through your aura. There are different colors that are clearly energy signatures, that play through during our interactions all the time, but those dominant, familial colors seem to be a constant. I’m still learning all of what I’m seeing. I’m not even positive what all the colors are called yet.” He laughs, and I think back to how he mentioned that. I thought it was just because he’d never been able to see, so he needed to be taught, but he might be seeing colors we don’t have the capability to see, too. He’s laughing as he adds, “So, I assume that no one recognized her?”

  “No! The pictures we have are old too. I’m not even sure if we have photographs in our archives besides artist renditions.” Everyone looks stunned as they stare at him. Conversations have sprung up around us. It’s clear that this puts a new spin on things.

  “There is a possibility that there are pictures in the Sanctuary’s private records. I have access to that…” Mihile’s eyes meet mine before he turns back to Matthias. “Should we make this tie between them known?”

  “Definitely.” Matthias’s voice is loud. His face turns red in anger as he continues to explain why. “This makes the deception escalate to an entirely new level. Not only did our females make an agreement with the Ashen—who were at least mentors, if not genetic creators of our species—to enslave the males in our society by stunting their growth to such an extent that they become physically weaker than the females, but then our females continued the conspiracy through our religion to maintain that subjugation.”

  The room gets quiet. They’re all stunned by this news. As the weaker sex from Earth, I can’t help feeling like this is pretty normal. A natural progression of the way things go, in general.

  Look at child marriages in my homeland. They were outlawed in the twenties, and since then, there have been multiple revisions and law changes including exceptions that allow underage marriages with a guardian’s permission. The last census statistics I heard reported between thirty and fifty percent of marriages are under age. And the laws are constantly challenged by organizations seeking no minimum age at all. They say that the age matter should be left to their personal law—which is religion.

  Yep. Sounds pretty normal.

  I watch Mihile as he rises to his feet, allowing another to take his place at the table. Because the stone reader is something the men found in their antique archives, it only allows three people at a time to watch the information play out. They must be cycling through the people in the room. That’s
the thing—the more people who know and can work on making a difference, the better.

  When Mihile reaches me, he clasps my hands, leaning down to brush his lips across my forehead. “Do you feel better?” I feel great but I can definitely sense his sadness. It’s almost a tangible resignation.

  “Yes, but are you okay? This is a lot to take in. The last few weeks have been totally crazy—”

  “And totally enlightening.” Tugging me back into the kitchen area, he adds, “I needed to know this. And clearly, this species of aliens… the Ashen?”

  I nod as I get him a glass of water, passing it to him without a word. “Yes, the Ashen must have realized I needed to know and could help bring about the knowledge and change Quasar needs right now.”

  “Yes. I agree that may be true, but I’m also worried. Has Bren or Hannah told you what’s going on with the Council and the Marel?”

  “They say they’re investigating our allegations.” Pressing my hand to my chest, I turn to look at Hannah. She’s in the doorway to the hall. I didn’t even hear her come in. “I just got off the communication device. They’re not giving us a proper ‘trial’ so to speak. We’re in hot water for not utilizing any communication on the way back from Dactyles, the prison planet. Even though we explained it was to keep from having the traitor or traitors try to kill us all again, they act like we tried to kill them instead. It’s been ridiculous!”

  Hannah’s sipping a mug of the tea that April shared with me earlier. More men, including Bren have shuffled closer, clearly interested in any updates she’s willing to share. “We tried to tell them. More Marel will be here any time now. They aren’t benevolent either. We have all the proof. The records, the devices they used… everything. The more they all dig their heels in, the more convinced I am that they’re all involved. But is that even possible?”

  There are murmurs around us. Because I personally experienced dealing with the Marel and being on their ship, trapped, and caged, I don’t know why they’d be making any deals with them at all. “They’re scary!” I shiver, remembering the strange shiny, man-sized insect looming over me.

  It’s Bren who answers her as he rubs her back gently. “I don’t know exactly what could be the incentive for them to make an agreement with them, but I do know that we need to give everyone on the planet the option that the Ashen gave us. That’s what we’re here for. To spread the truth, and make sure that everyone who wants to leave can.”

  “Yes, but they’re painting us as the bad guys.” Hannah’s voice is sad. Setting her mug down on the countertop behind her, she wraps her arms around Bren’s side. “Traitors. Liars. We have proof but no way to share it. What’re we going to try next? There has to be something we can do to get the innocent people to safety?”

  “I need to go back to my dwelling under the Sanctuary and get access to the Sacred Mother’s private records.” My mouth drops open at Mihile’s suggestion. Sure, I heard him offering to go back and check out pictures and see if they can add to the collection of evidence they have against the church, but what’s the point if we can’t even get the information out?

  “Why?” I’m the only one that questions him, and I realize instantly that I sound like a baby. But he’s my mate. Why does it have to be him?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  - Mihile

  I can sense Tara’s fear for me. Her trepidation about me returning to my dwelling and attempting to get into my mother’s private records, but I know that accessing them may be what we need. Now that I’ve watched the agreement with the Ashen, I’m positive that my mother knows everything—or at least enough to be complicit in what’s happening.

  There isn’t much that the Sacred Mother doesn’t know. She works with the Council members on every aspect of Quasarian life. She isn’t technically considered part of the Council, but she might as well be. They’re so intricately entwined… and I see that now.

  Rubbing Tara’s upper arms, I squeeze them as I answer her, but I’m really letting everyone know. “I can tell where everyone is around us. I’ll know if anyone is coming. I’m safer out there than anyone else. With the knowledge and senses I have, I can remotely view all the options for travel both above and below ground.”

  Tara doesn’t look totally convinced, but her voice is hopeful as she looks up at me, asking, “So, that means I can come with you, right?”

  My heart skips a beat thinking about her with me. I’m not sure exactly how I feel about that. I’ll have to think about it. Instead I answer, “Let’s see what they plan on doing here, alright? I have to talk to everyone…” I can see the betrayal and doubt in her eyes. I keep forgetting she can feel all my emotions as well as I can feel hers. “Please, let’s talk about it more.”

  I know there’s a much better chance of me getting in and out of my previous dwelling alone and unnoticed if I go alone, rather than with anyone else trailing along. And although it kills me to think about leaving her—even briefly—I also know if I’m caught, they can’t and won’t kill me.

  I need to think. There’s so much that’s happened. So many options and considerations.

  Tara’s already backing up slowly toward the door. I know she wants me to follow her. She isn’t messing around. She wants to talk about it right now.

  Everyone else knows it too. Bren gives me a quick nod as Hannah adds, “There isn’t anywhere safe, Mihile. Until we’re off Quasar, preferably back to at least Dactyles, and hopefully at this ‘New Earth’ we’ve been told so much about, there really isn’t anywhere that we can’t be found. Keep that in mind…”

  Turning the corner outside the meal prep area, I see Tara leaning back against the wall, her face stoic. I can sense her sorrow and confusion. When she looks up at me, her brow furrows. “We just found one another. I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks… during the entire time we traveled here. Seeing you in my sleep… I guess I’m just disappointed.”

  Tears have begun to pool in her eyes as she speaks, clearly frustrated with the situation. I am too. She’s right, as well.

  None of this is fair. Picking her up, she clings to me, wrapping her arms and legs around me as I rub her back and walk toward the sleeping chamber we were in earlier. It’s frustrating knowing we can’t just leave. A part of me is tempted to just abandon everyone to their fate.

  Lowering her to the sleeping platform, she doesn’t release my neck, instead urging me with her body to settle on top of her. Resting my lower body between her legs, I look down at her beneath me. There are tears shining in her eyes. As I study her, more drops escape, catching the lights on her cheeks.

  It breaks my heart to see her so sad, so I try to explain the thinking behind my decisions. “We can’t leave innocents here. Everyone has to be informed. How many of them are going about their business out there right now with no idea of the impending doom about to befall them? We have to stay and exhaust every possibility to communicate the treachery and danger literally over our heads.”

  Tara nods, sniffing slightly before releasing my neck to use her fingers and wipe her face. “It’s just… I know I’m a baby. I get it, but I’ve never felt safe. This is just a continuation of a new and different kind of fear… and I’m sorry, but it’s getting to me.”

  The tears begin again, running silently down the sides of her face. Her pain and frustration with the situation make me determined to get this over with. Everything needs straightened out as soon as possible. We need to resolve this or many more will die. They could be taken by the Marel back to their planet or enslaved on Quasar for future harvesting.

  I’m aware that just like the original Sacred Mother struggled to get the citizens to leave their previously dying planet, we face the same struggle now. No one wants to go unless there’s no other choice… unless there’s a very clear and tangible incentive. Potential mates for the males is definitely a possible and viable incentive for them.

  But what about the females? The Ermadas with harems of men that don’t want to lose their status
? How many of them are just living the lives that they inherited? Aren’t they just as innocent too?

  Tara’s lips latch onto mine, distracting my heavy thoughts, and I sink down upon her, enjoying the way our bodies fit so perfectly together. Her tongue flicks out to run along the seam of my mouth, and as soon as I open to her, she slips inside. Needy moans escape her as our desperation translates to an almost frantic gnashing of teeth.

  Unwrapping a leg from around me, she plants her foot by her hip, pushing back against the bed and encouraging me to roll onto my back. I’ll do anything for her, of course. As our lips break apart, I keep my arms around her, pulling her on top as our bodies roll together.

  Her lips latch onto mine again, and I sense her pouring all her feelings into the kiss. As she pulls back, she drops soft pecks onto my lips that are still parted, waiting for her to continue. Instead, her arms stay between us as she parts my robe. She’s releasing the fastener, and her small, warm hands travel from my neck down my chest.

  “You feel so soft… like cashmere.” Tara begins placing kisses on my chest, following the lines of my mating marks. I don’t have any idea what cashmere is, although it sounds like an animal fur of some kind. “And your mating marks are so much deeper in color now.”

  Reaching my arms above my head, I arrange the pillows better so I can watch her beautiful face as she kisses me lightly. She stops to study the small hairs on my body that are technically a smaller and shorter version of the ones on my head. They follow her fingers, attracted to her like every other molecule in my body.

  “See this? This is red.” She points to one of the colors flashing through my mating marks. Even though she commented they’re darker than before, they look the same to me. But she remembers what I said and is endeavoring to teach me what she calls the colors. “This is orange.” There’s only a subtle difference between the two colors, but I make an effort to commit them to memory.