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

Chapter 16

The big, overly bright lobby was silent as Darcy crept back in. It didn’t look like any Christmas she’d ever seen, and it was definitely no holiday destination wedding in the Caribbean, but somehow it was even more wild and beautiful. She slipped the three wrapped presents under the pretend tree and stood back, biting her lip.

It was just a little token, she told herself. Something anyone would do for a family stranded out of their place and time and comfort zone. Just because it meant more to her didn’t really have to mean anything.

And conveniently she could just blame it on Santa Claus. They wouldn’t know any better.

She turned to sneak out again. But of course he was there.

Vash gave her crooked smile. “You caught me.”

He strode toward her, veering at the last moment toward the tree, and tucked three small boxes beneath the dangling ornaments.

Three? To her humiliation, her eyes prickled with tears. She didn’t even know what was in the extra box that must be for her. Maybe it was horrible. Maybe it was macaroni art or a friendship bracelet or…

Who was she kidding, she would adore any of those.

She gazed at Vash, trying to keep the misery off her face. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and she’d fully expected to be miserable and alone.

Annoyed with herself, she gave him a tight smile. “Sorry I had to dash. This doesn’t even count as a bad storm around here, but the snow just keeps falling, and I need to keep an eye on things with Ug.”

“Of course. This afternoon, Yadira mixed up something called cinnamon buns that will be baked tomorrow morning. We’ll save one for you.”

The only part of her more at risk than her heart were her coronary arteries. One cinnamon bun wouldn’t kill her. Watching them fly away with the rescue ship though…

No, she wouldn’t torture herself ahead of time. “I would love a cinnamon bun.”

And she wondered if he heard the words she didn’t say: I would love you.

But he was stranded and still grieving, and she was technically a closed worlder with no official status among the galactic citizenry. There were interstellar rules and the ghost of a dead mother between them and all the wishing in the world didn’t change the fact that every day was complicated.

But when he held out his empty hand, she reached back. And when he pulled her close, she rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes while she breathed with the heavy beat of his heart.

“Just so you know, I told Yadira you would never try to replace her mother. That no one could. That being hurt and angry doesn’t have to be healed all at once.” She sighed. “I don’t know all the right words to say, even with this translator in my head.”

“Time and talk,” he murmured. “That’s what our therapist said. But you and I don’t have much of that left, do we?”

She gazed up at him. “And it was still more than I ever would have dreamed of asking for,” she whispered.

She tilted her face up to his, and his kiss drifted down light as a snowflake and warm and sweet as cider.

Could she be glad and sad at the same time? So very complicated.

She threaded her fingers up into his hair, tangling into the dark locks as if she might never let go. And his arms wrapped around her so gently she almost didn’t feel them, even though she knew he would never let her fall.

Their kiss was desperation laced with sweetness. And they could go no further, not in this space and time. Maybe not ever.

“What if I had been an Earther?” he murmured.

“What if I had been a drakling?”

When he gazed down at her, his eyes were even brighter than the icicle lights and illuminated chili peppers that she assumed had come from the Cinco de Mayo party decor. “I have to find out what is left of our lives back on Skyearth, check our legal and financial status, make sure the fledglings are supported through the trauma of losing again.”

“I’m not sure the closed world authorities won’t come and wipe my memories. And I need to have a few intense discussions with my friend Brin about everything.”

They still held fast to each other despite the list of complications.

“Neither of us can make promises right now.”

The regret in his voice made her hands tighten around his waist. “Maybe we don’t have to say anything at all.”

The last kiss was salted with tears, and his shuddering breath almost knocked loose her determination to not blurt out all the things she shouldn’t say when there was so much up in the air.

Even though that was the only place she wanted to be: up in the air with him again.

Her datpad chirped a sharp warning, and they drew apart. “What is it?”

She frowned down at the screen. “There is a ship approaching.” She tilted the pad. “Or something? The outpost scanners are struggling to get a lock through the snow and the usual interference.”

He peered over her shoulder. “It must be the outpost rescue ship. I was hoping we’d at least have Christmas together.”

How could this possibly hurt more than Christmas alone? She turned off the datpad and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I hope you have enough cinnamon rolls for everyone.”

In silent accord, they settled on one of the large couples chairs near the fire. This whole place was set up to encourage closeness and connection, except the ship was coming to tear all that apart. Was that ironic, or just tragic?

She rested, just for a moment, breathing in the spicy musk of him, and the snow paused. A few stars glinted between the thick icing of snow curled along the upper windows, but the trees swayed, hinting at another front threatening.

After another moment, she frowned at the datpad. “Shouldn’t the ship have reached out to us? They should be able to get a connection this close.”

Reaching across her, Vash tapped at the screen, calling up the outpost comms. “Nothing. Maybe it was a false signal.”

“Let me see if Ug and Kong can track it down.”

“Addah?”

At the tentative voice, they sprang apart guiltily. They couldn’t even claim there weren’t enough open seats this big empty lobby.

Yadira stood just inside the doorway, her hands clenched in front of her, staring at the two of them.

Vash pushed his feet. “Yaya? What’s wrong?”

At her his question, she tore her gaze away from them, glancing around the room. “Is Atsu here? I went to his room to check on him, and he’s not there. I thought he came here to peek at the tree and any presents.”

Vash strode toward her. “No, he’s not here. Maybe he went to the kitchen or the gym.”

Darcy tapped the datpad. “Internal scanners are only finding us.” She snapped her gaze to his. “Ug? Are you getting anything?”

His growled negative through her datpad made her grimace. Kong’s mechanized voice shrilled through another channel. “Outpost sensors are tracking the intermittent signal of a ship. It does not seem to be coming or departing, only rising and falling erratically.”

They all looked at each other in horror. “Atsu,” Yadira gasped.

Vash whipped out his datpad. “I left a childminder with him.” He cursed out a harsh breath. “It’s not getting a lock either.” He toggled some setting. “Atsu. Can you hear me? Where are you?”

At first only an ominous silence answered him, then the harsh crackle of the bad connection snapped through the room. “… No ship… Have to stay…”

Eyes closing, Vash swayed on his feet.

Darcy wedged her hand under his elbow. “Atsu, you have to tell us where you are, baby. You have to be here for Christmas morning, remember?”

“… Never leave…”

Kong and Ug burst into the room. “Ug plotted a trajectory from the intermittent signal,” the little robot reported. A map projected from its domed head. “It appears the little one took the runabout out to the garage. If someone could get close enough to initiate the outpost overrides that are still active in the repair sequence, you could ground the ship again.”

“Send the override codes to my datpad,” Vash ordered. He handed the device to Yadira. “Hold this for a moment.”

Darcy was looking at the projected map. “It looks like he’s just skimming the ship along, barely flying. If we take the hover cart, we can get to him.”

“It won’t be fast enough. I can get there first.” He strode to the door and shoved it open, clearing the drift of snow as if it were nothing. One more step through the doorway then he was shifting into his glorious beast shape, ripping free from his clothing. Yadira was right behind him, shivering in her thin nightshirt as she expanded the datpad band to fit over Vash’s claw.

Darcy bit her lip. He would have to change back to his smaller shape with fingers when he caught up with the ship, naked in the snow somewhere.

She unfurled the edge of her cardigan around Yadira. “Go,” she told him.

He launched into the sky in a wild flurry of blown flakes. And then he was lost in the inky sky.

Yadira looked up at Darcy. “We have to follow.”

There was a part of Darcy that knew it was a terrible idea, but she couldn’t tell the girl that, not when the rest of her family had disappeared into the night. “Put on every layer you can find,” she said instead. “Your father and your brother will need us to share when we catch up.”

Kong wheeled nervously around them. “You should wait here for the rescue ship. They must be coming soon.”

Sometimes waiting did seem easier, Darcy mused. “Just keep the cocoa hot for us.”

+ + +

The beast didn’t care about the cold. It was locked on the hunt, following the device on its claw—a tiny guiding star in the dark night.

Even with panic spurring him, he shouldn’t have been able to catch up with the ship. Good thing Atsu’s experience with flight was limited to games. But that just added to Vash’s terror of another crash.

Have to stay .

The little one’s plaintive reasoning threatened to spear him from the sky. That wasn’t how the world worked—no worlds—and wishing on stars couldn’t guarantee forever. But…

Right here, right now .

That was possible, wasn’t it? If he was as brave as his daughter and maybe half as hopeful as his son.

But first his beast had to bring down a spaceship in the snow.

The geological oddness that kept the Big Sky IDA hidden meant the datpad couldn’t get a signal lock, but the beast picked up the whine of a struggling engine over the restless gusting of wind.

All this time, he’d been worried about Yadira doing something rash. He was going to have such words in so many languages with his reckless, thieving fledgling.

But first he would hug the little beast and never let go.

He finally caught sight of the struggling ship ahead, barely clearing the treetops. Only the landing lights were on, turning the branches into a thicket of menacing black spears. Since the hull repair hadn’t received final inspection and approval, the ship’s systems had been restricted to in-atmo travel, so at least Atsu couldn’t accidentally leave the planet. But if the closed world authorities caught this unauthorized flight, there could be serious repercussions.

Never leave .

One step at a time.

With a burst of speed, Vash winged over the trees, closing on the ship. He had to end this, quickly. And he had to be close or the shutdown signal might go astray, scattered by the same secret oddness that kept the IDA hidden from the oblivious Earthers.

The small viewport in the ship’s nose framed Atsu at the controls inside, looking small but fierce. Despite his own terrified determination, Vash was almost knocked from the sky by the wave of love that rocked him. Atsu wanted happiness for his family, and he was doing everything in his small power to deliberately strand them in joy. Whether the little one had a plan for somehow getting back to the IDA outpost after he ditched the ship…

Some things were better left unknown.

Veering past the juddering ship, Vash folded his wings. In mid plummet, he shifted, clenching his talons/fingers on the datpad band. If he lost the device in the snow, he’d lose this chance to stop the ship.

His bare feet punched into a snowbank, and he was instantly buried to the waist. In the instant of change, the ship arced over his head, but he was already sending the remote code to ground it.

For a wretched heartbeat, the ship continued on, as if the code had been blocked. The heat of shifting dissipated in the next heartbeat, and icy cold sleeted through him—from the crotch up since his legs were already numbing. He clenched the datpad, ready to throw himself after his fledgling again and again until they were together…

The whine of the engines stuttered, indicating a shutdown, but the ship tilted, and the engines sputtered up again as if the ship was arguing with itself. Since the remote descent should’ve been calibrated to the rough terrain, Vash knew Atsu must be fighting the grounding order by hand.

Toggling the datpad, Vash roared through the ground-to-ship comm, “Young drakling, you put that ship down right now or no more tarts for you!”

But the ship had already disappeared behind the wall of trees.

Wrenching his body side to side, Vash waded through the snow. How could it be so fluffy in the air but dense as plascrete on the ground? He called to his beast, but he was getting tired. Apparently he wasn’t entirely recovered from stasis and his crash injuries. Once more they could rally, and then they would crawl if they had to.

Before he could shift, the horrible sound of splintering wood split the night—

Followed by a searing light, almost as bright as that long-ago lightning flash that had thrown his life into chaos.

A roar deeper than any beast echoed over the forest, and the explosion ripped through the trees. Splinters, violent and fragrant, rained around him, piercing his naked skin.

“Atsu!”

Without another thought, he shifted, bounding out of the snow. Shifters healed faster as their tissues transformed, but it took even more energy than usual, and he blundered above the broken treetops.

There, a pale hole in the dark forest with snow reflecting an ominous glow. But the flames were already dying as the ship’s fire suppression system kicked in. As a secondary priority to hull integrity, probably that system hadn’t been entirely refurbished after the initial crash, but it should be enough for what amounted to a minor accident.

Vash spun down toward the grounded ship. The nose cone was angled down but intact, though the viewport was obscured with snow. Atsu would be fine. He had to be fine…

Flaring his wings to land, Vash caught a glimpse of a bright spark.

Then the hatch blew toward him in a rainbow of lethal light.