Star Bright (Big Sky Alien Mail Order Brides #22)

Chapter 7

After their late meal, Kong announced that a post-prandial walk was good for digestion and the revivification process, so Vash headed for the door. He needed all the reviving he could get.

But the Earther evening beyond the windows looked like space—cold, dark, and lonely.

Was he unknowingly oblivious to another imminent crash?

Darcy’s voice brought him around. “Want some company? Or would you rather have the time to yourself?”

Grateful for the distraction, he gave her the lip curl that indicated Earther amusement. “You just want to make sure I don’t fly away and leave you with two drakling fledglings.”

She smiled back, but her eyes stayed serious. “I think I have never been so sure of something not happening.”

Maybe she just meant that she would not take guardianship of younglings not her own, but for some reason he was forced to admit, “I would rather not have time to think by myself. I am prone to a condition that draklings call spiraling, where our thoughts and the beasts’ instincts and the winds of the world knot together in contrary ways.”

“Oh, here on Earth we have the same term. We don’t have wings, of course, so maybe the spiraling looks more like running around in circles, but it’s still annoying. I suppose we can at least do it outside and call it exercise.”

She had her own heavier layers for the local weather, and he found a thick cloak in the storage container from the ship. He swirled it around his shoulders, and Darcy made a little sound. But when he glanced at her in question, she just shook her head.

“I wish my part of Earth had drakling fashion. I used to do what we call cosplay, but Christopher wasn’t into it so… Anyway, now I get my cape fix from virtual reality games, which is not the same as the real-real thing.” She pursed her lips. “Although I’m betting alien tech probably has some cool games.”

“Yadira and Atsu both love to play, but drakling games tend to be very physical because of the beast.”

“Well, that explains the, um, musculature.”

“And cloaks are well suited for wings. Otherwise we rip through too many clothes.”

“Oh. I… Yes. I can see how that might be a problem too.” A faint flush brightened her cheeks as they stepped out to the patio. Only a few clouds raced across the sky, scuttled by a gusty wind. Maybe it was the cold that made her blush.

Or did she mean drakling physiques were a problem to her? She was softer than a drakling might be, but he’d felt the steady strength in her grip. He would’ve asked what she meant by that, but they both gasped as the chill surrounded them and the moment passed.

“It is quite cold here,” he noted pointlessly. “Do you need my cloak? My beast runs hot enough that I won’t die without it.”

“I mean, I covet it, but my puffy is good.” She flapped her arms to demonstrate the insulated loft of the pale purple coat that went down to her knees.

It triggered something in him. The softly rounded heft of her, surrounded by the sleek and whispery layers, and the little flutter roused his beast to a strange awareness.

Just a primitive predator-prey response, probably, brought about by the fractures to his conscious control caused by the cryo and the crash. He needed to be vigilant. He didn’t want to scare her, not after all she’d done. He would never hurt her.

But still, some part of him—a part that was not his beast, but some other compulsion—wanted to seize her and carry her away into the dark sky.

He took a long, slow breath, hoping the icy air would cool the reflex. Instead, it filled his lungs with the scent of her.

The taste of peppers and her. Caye, she’d named him.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, she was staring up. “Can you see your Skyearth from here?”

That reminder was like colliding with a mountainside. He had a home, a family, a mate.

“No.” The strain in his voice shamed him. “It’s too far.”

She must’ve heard his tense tone, because she turned her head to look at him. “Vash? Are you okay? Besides…everything, I guess.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Besides everything, yes.”

“You laugh too, and it sounds mostly the same,” She tilted her head. “I told you I’ve been reading the handbooks, and isn’t it interesting how so many beings across the universe can be more or less compatible, at least by IDA standards?”

“The forces and atoms that created the universe are the same for all of us. So maybe those elements and dynamics make us more alike than different. Or maybe it’s just that the variances don’t matter as much as the connections.”

She gazed up at him. Though all the stars were very far away, her eyes glimmered with the tiny lights—an astronavigation chart trying to lead him…somewhere, maybe somewhere dangerous.

His breath caught again, not from the cold this time, or agitation, not even from that predatory response seeking to catch and hold the taste of her. This went past primal instinct, deeper than basic biology or chemistry, more complex—and yet also more fundamental—than atomic bonds. But all those forces seemed to crowd around the two of them like phantoms, compelling him—

No. He’d just been telling her how his job had been all about understanding and influencing invisible forces; he wasn’t going to give in to random compulsion. He had responsibilities, he had made promises, he had…problems, so many problems. He would not be inflicting those on her when she wasn’t even supposed to know about his existence.

She was still looking up at him, the starlight glimmering but a small furrow between her eyes. “Vash?”

Was that a hint of breathlessness in her too?

But he remembered what she’d told him about her companion who had made her feel foolish for wasting her time. He would not lead her on that way, not merely betraying her but letting her betray herself.

He forced himself to look away. “Shall we continue along the paths? Unless you are too cold.” Unless he became too hot…

Before he could come up with more excuses, a klaxon blared across the patio. “Vash! Darcy!” The droid’s mechanical tones crackled with urgency. “Return at once! The stasis chambers are unsealing!”

He spun on his heel, lunging three quick strides toward the building. Then glanced back.

“Go,” she said. “I’m right behind you.”

They burst through the doors to an escalating wail. “Ahh-mmi!”

“Atsu!” He bolted to the nearest pod, almost bowling over the droid that spun helplessly without arms as the little fledging scrabbled at the half-open lid. “Susu, I’m here. Be still, let me get you out.” He lifted his son from the pod and cuddled him close. “Hush, my little summer breeze. I have you now.”

The scrawny limbs flailed at him—with more strength and coordination than he himself had upon emerging, Vash noted wryly.

“Addah? Wh…” Clinging tight, the fledgling peered up at him, blinking his bright green eyes, then just as quickly glanced around, those keen drakling senses already coming into focus. “Where are we? Where’s our ship?”

“We’re here on Earth,” Vash said, skipping over some not yet necessary parts. He wrapped the edges of his cloak around the little body. “We landed while you were asleep.”

“It smells strange.” Atsu huffed out a breath, nostrils flaring. “Did you have a snack without me?”

Vash exhaled a breath of his own, half relieved laugh, half choked groan. He had told Kong that the existing food stores would be entirely enough, but maybe not. “I checked to see what you might like here, but I left plenty for you.” He forced himself not to crush Atsu to his chest. A vigorous appetite was typical in drakling young, so this had to be a good sign that all was well with his son.

Atsu rested in his arms for another moment, then squirmed. “Where’s Yaya? She didn’t eat without me too, did she? Why didn’t you come get me to see planetfall?” He frowned sadly at his sire.

“Your sister is in her bed,” Vash said. “There was an issue with our entry so I didn’t have time to wake you before we landed.”

As he’d suspected, his son pounced on the first part of his explanation. “Yaya is still asleep? Ha! I’m first!” He pushed at the confining edge of the cloak. “What is this place? I want to see aliens. I want a snack. I need to use the bathroom.”

Vash held onto his eager fledgling. “Susu, just sit with me a moment.”

“But I want—” Each word started to increase in volume.

A discreet throat-clearing paused the threatening outburst. “Maybe I could show Atsu around while you check on Yadira?”

Atsu kneed Vash in the groin, lifting himself to see over his sire’s shoulder. “Oh! An alien! Already! I’m first again. Yaya is going to be so mad.” He chortled, then added with another sniff, “This alien smells strange too.”

“Susu, my summer breeze, perhaps we smell strange to her.” Vash glanced up at Darcy. “Darcy, this is Atsu, my son. Atsu, this is Darcy. She is our friend here on Earth.”

“Oh, I forgot.” At the fledgling’s dismayed look, Vash’s heart skipped a beat. “It can hear everything I say because of the universal translators.”

As soon as his son said it, Vash had the memory himself of going to the clinic to be fitted with the devices. The fledglings’ translators were meant to be upgraded with their maturing brains, but he’d wanted them to be able to communicate on their own. For some reason, he also remembered a strange grief as he approved the procedure, maybe because thinking of younglings growing up was hard for any caretaker?

Unaware of his ruminations, Darcy tipped her head to both of them. “From what I’ve read, the Earther sense of smell is not as discerning as draklings. To me, you smell…fine.”

Despite his own distraction, Vash noticed her hesitation. Maybe she was just being polite to the IDA’s extraterrestrial patrons?

Not that it mattered. He’d also noticed her surreptitious glance at his daughter’s pod. He needed to check it, and he didn’t necessarily want his son watching. If anything went wrong…

No. He would not allow that.

Still, it was only with great reluctance that he let Atsu of his lap. “Darcy, maybe you would be so kind as to show Atsu the snack cabinet?”

She nodded at him, with one more flick of a glance at the other pod. “Come on, Atsu. You can tell me what it’s like to get a translator. I don’t have one, you know.”

“Is it because this is a closed world? Maybe you are too primitive to have a universal translator.” Atsu looked back at his sire, the first inkling of uncertainty tightening his features. “Addah?”

Why did his bold little fledgling hesitate when there was food available? Vash was careful to keep his body loose and unbothered, knowing his offspring would be analyzing his stance as well as his words. “Darcy didn’t believe me that draklings like our food very spicy,” he told his son with much solemnity. “Perhaps you can convince her.”

Atsu glanced up at Darcy. “Don’t you like it hot?”

She smiled at him, then adjusted the expression, and Vash knew she was trying to simplify her responses to the alien child. “Maybe just not as hot as you?” She held out one hand. “But I can show you the different flavors, and you can tell me which ones you like best.”

Atsu looked at her hand for a moment, gave Vash one more quick glance, and tangled his little fingers around hers. “Yaya actually likes it hottest of all,” he confessed in a not very soft whisper. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Maybe because she’s older, do you think that might be it?”

“No. I think it’s because she’s always mad.”

For an instant, Vash wanted to call his son back to explain. But that would mean admitting that he didn’t remember why his daughter might be mad. His memories needed to come back, now .

Stiffening against the need to keep his fledgling close, he kept an eye on Darcy and Atsu as they crossed the living room while he examined the other pod. The console showed that the revival process was complete, and yet the decompression hadn’t started.

“Kong, can you tell, why has this pod not opened yet?”

“Every revival is different, because every being is different,” the droid prevaricated. When Vash stiffened, it rolled a cautious half wheel back. “For whatever reason, the unit’s internal scans must be indicating that this one’s systems are not yet stable.”

Fear jabbed through him. “But the bioelechemical readings are all within drakling norms.” He clenched his fist over the steady light proclaiming as much.

“There is more to a being than such physical processes,” Kong said. “Not that the experience is known to mechanical constructs such as service droids.”

Vash stiffened. Was Kong saying that his daughter didn’t want to join her family? That she would rather stay in the pod? He couldn’t leave her alone and asleep. Not just because her brother would never stop crowing about it, or his own desperate need to hold her again. Whatever was keeping her stuck in the pod couldn’t be fixed with the lid closed between.

When he initiated the release override, Kong did not try to stop him.

The soft hiss of the equalizing pressures and atmospheres sounded menacing. It took everything in Vash’s body not to rip the lid back at once and haul his daughter out into the world. This world. At the other end of the big lobby, he saw Darcy glance back at them. Atsu was kneeling on one of the stools at the bar, gesticulating with a bottle of hot sauce. Although Vash could not hear what he was saying at this distance, it probably had something to do with the formations of different kinds of volcanic rock which had been his latest obsession at the time they departed.

Vash shook his head. Why did he remember his son’s enthusiasms but not the source of his daughter’s anger?

The lid parted with a last gasp, and Vash pulled it the rest of the way open without waiting for the pneumatic hinges.

Within, the protective gases drifted away, and he stared down at his beautiful daughter. She’d been beautiful as she hatched out of the egg, and the sols since as she matured toward adolescence had only made her more striking.

For a moment, before the last swirl of gas cleared, he glimpsed the features of his mate, but softer and sweeter, and again his heart clenched, squeezed by some cosmic fist.

Then she opened her eyes, brighter green than the highest leaves of an ancient sheenwood.

He reached over the edge of the pod toward her, and she flinched. His chest felt crushed. “Yadira.”

Avoiding his hand, she sat up, pushing her long, dark auburn hair away from her face. The locks were a terrible tangle, as if even frozen in stasis, his restive child had tossed and turned.

“Yaya!” Atsu’s energetic cry and even more energetic body slam nearly knocked Vash over. He caught his son with one arm lest the child tumble into his sister. “I brought you this porridge. It is not so very hot, but it is all this closed world has. Darcy says it may snow soon, and then we will have something called hot cocoa and hot cider. Maybe those will be hotter. Maybe even too hot for you.”

Yadira swiveled her head to stare at her brother. “Go away, Oos. You’re annoying, and I’m not hungry.”

“Then I’ll eat it all.” Atsu slipped out of Vash’s slack grip and ran back to Darcy who was approaching with an apologetic grimace. “Told you she’s always mad.”

Vash squelched his own scowl. Young draklings squabbled and scrapped—such was inevitable with the spirited, sometimes unwittingly strong beasts still developing within them—but discourtesy was not tolerated. Because some day the real claws would come out.

“Atsu,” he said with strained composure. “Do not antagonize your sister. Yadira, do not insult your brother.”

“It’s not an insult, just the truth. He is annoying.”

“And she is mad,” Atsu shot back. But he mumbled the words around the bottle of hot sauce he was sucking on, so Vash could pretend not to hear it.

He might not have all his memories back yet, but he was getting a pretty clear idea of why he’d frozen his fledglings.

Not for a hundred sols though.

His glimmer of humor immediately soured. “Yadira, you need to eat something. And then we all need to talk.”

But his daughter was glaring at Darcy, acid venom in her narrowed green eyes. “Is that her? Is that the Earther female you chose to replace my mother?”

“Replace?” The constriction around Vash’s chest wasn’t just painful, it was so tight he feared his heart would collapse, becoming nothingness, just a black hole. “I don’t…”

“Is it you?” Atsu grabbed Darcy’s hand again, this time with no hesitation. “You might smell strange, but Addah says we need a mother. Then we will all be happy again.” He slanted a look at his sister, not sly but wistful.

Yadira boosted herself up, slender hands clenched like someday-claws around the rim of the pod. Her narrow back arched up, as if she might force wings to burst from her with the power of her fury. “We. Already. Have. A. Mother,” she snarled.

“But, Yaya,” the littlest drakling whispered. “She can’t be with us anymore. She’s never coming back.”

Even before his son said it, the repressed memory exploded through Vash, the final catastrophic paroxysm of a dying sun.

“Because she’s dead.”