Tentacle on 34th Street (Tinsel and Tentacles 2.0)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

The Nefyrian System

N o one in their right mind walked out on their wedding to a Nefyrian prince less than an hour before the five-day festivities were set to begin. But then, no one had ever accused Cryss of House Kreegl of being in his right mind, either. He studied the vizscreen of the Zenoscanner, fairly confident he wasn’t being tracked, but with the new class of stealth drives, he couldn’t be sure the system could detect one way or another. Considering the prince had tearfully announced his love and devotion to his bodyguard and the fact he might be pregnant with the man’s spawn during the rehearsal dinner, Cryss sensed good old King Krythar wasn’t going to give chase. Even if Cryss had fled using what was supposed to be his wedding gift—the very star cruiser he was hurtling through space in.

While he wasn’t as worried about the king, his family was a whole other matter. His parents had pressed him to wed the prince anyway, their desire to maintain their status and power stronger than their wish for his happiness. Before he’d left, he’d told them in no uncertain terms that a royal wedding would never happen, contract or no. It hadn’t been his first royal engagement to end in drama, but it would be his last.

While navigating out of the atmosphere with one hand and modulating the engine signature to help better hide his flight path with the other, Cryss noticed a minor warning flash on the helm beside him. The cruiser was meant to be piloted by a group of three to four, not one, but it wasn’t impossible. Luckily, he could be in more than one place at once. He reached for the helm, allowing his arm to splinter into three tentacles. The tip of the longest was able to press the control, allowing him to continue the modulation uninterrupted as well.

He reformed his arm once he was done with the alarm and finished altering the signature. Once out of the planet’s atmosphere, he turned on autopilot and entered his coordinates. Sitting back to view all the controls, he sighed in relief. All was in working order and functioning as expected.

Clink! He spun his chair to eye the pilot deck’s access, sure the sound had come from behind it. He’d locked the titanium hatch behind him, and it would be near to impossible to get through without his code. Still, he reached for his sidearm. He’d searched the ship before commandeering it in spaceport and was sure it had been empty. The ship was new. Perhaps it had some bugs in the system. The hatch whisked open, and Cryss pointed his weapon, ready to defend himself. His best friend, Qylar, appeared on the other side. He should’ve known. Qylar was the only one who’d be able to guess his codes. Cryss relaxed the finger on the trigger, letting out a long, shuddered breath. “I almost put a hole in you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“We were ten, Q. How many times are you going to beat me over the head with that arrow?”

Qylar grinned and entered the pilot’s deck, locking the hatch behind him. “Until one of us dies? Maybe not even then.”

Cryss holstered his weapon and leaned back in the engineer’s chair. “How did you get on board?”

Qylar dropped into the seat beside him at the helm. “I assumed you’d run immediately after that horror show of a rehearsal dinner, so I slipped aboard last night. I’ll have you know that I’m quite disappointed it took you this long to show up.”

“I tried. My father got in my way, trying to convince me it didn’t matter that my fiancé had another’s spawn inside him.”

“I figured that might be the case,” Qylar murmured. “I ended up sleeping in your honeymoon suite last night. I expected a more comfortable bed on a king’s cruiser.” He stretched his back, cracking it. “I have kinks thanks to you.”

“As if you didn’t already have plenty before last night.”

Qylar chuckled to himself.

Cryss narrowed his eyes. “How did you know I’d take this ship?”

“I saw the look in your eyes when the king presented it to you. You were practically salivating to take it for a spin then and there.”

“It was an early wedding present,” Cryss grumbled. “For a wedding that didn’t happen.”

Qylar spun the chair to face the helm and checked a few of the systems—peeking under the hood, so to speak. At least, that’s what Cryss assumed. “Why do I feel like the one being chastised here? You’re the one who stole it.”

“I never said I stole it.”

Qylar entered something into the manifest and turned his chair to face Cryss. “Wasn’t that what you were alluding to when you said it was a wedding gift for a wedding that didn’t happen? I’d say you’re in a moral gray area at best. Grand-theft star cruiser at worst. I doubt the king will track you down after that shitshow last night, but he might want his ship back.”

Cryss narrowed his eyes. “The point is, you’ll be guilty by association if you’re found with me. Knowing my parents, they’ll claim you coerced me and blame you for the whole debacle, no matter what I say.”

“Tell them I did, for all I care. They’ll have to find us first,” Qylar said, entering something into the helm. “And I don’t plan on that happening for some time.”

“After the argument I had with them, they better give up thoughts of another royal engagement. I’m done.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Plus who would want you now anyway? You’re nearly forty. Well past your prime.”

Cryss scoffed. “Seriously? You are forty, so what does that make you?”

“People age at different rates. Your pedigree and proximity to several thrones made you grow up much faster than I did. I figure I’m biologically at least a decade younger, if not more.”

“You wish.”

Qylar opened a new vizscreen and appeared to run a diagnostic, fighting a smile while doing it. “What was this? Your fourth broken engagement? That alone should put an end to this nonsense of you marrying a prince. If I’d been your father, I would’ve given up after the second. Who needs all that humiliation?”

“All four of them were due to my intendeds backing out— or dying,” Cryss said, frowning. “Nothing I did.” There had been whispers about his unlucky streak for years—calling him cursed—but he’d ignored the gossip. After the fourth broken engagement, maybe they were right.

The first prince had run away with his lover, and the pair still hadn’t been found as far as Cryss knew. The second had come out as straight a week before the wedding and claimed to have had his egg pouch removed, negating the contract. The third had been a Zyean princess, not a prince. Her cruiser had supposedly been destroyed by Zyean rebels on the way to Nefyria for the wedding.

“It does chafe a bit that none of them wanted me.”

“They were arranged, political transactions without a single drop of love or affection. Be glad they didn’t want you,” Qylar spat.

“I realize none were love matches, and I had no illusions I’d find true happiness with either of them, but I didn’t expect them to run from me like I have the plague. Why? I’m the son of one of the most powerful dukes in the system, so I have the strong bloodline in my favor. I’m pleasing enough to the eye, I think, and well-educated. I’m an accomplished pilot who’s flown at least fifty peacekeeping or emergency care missions over the last twenty years. I’ve never treated any of my fiancés poorly.”

“And you’re not an asshole like your father. That should go to the top of the list.”

“My point is—what’s wrong with me? What am I doing to send them running?”

“You’re a catch,” Qylar said, fiddling with the helm. “Your parents made terrible matches for you. It was them , not you.”

“My parents or the matches?”

“Both,” Qylar mumbled.

Qylar’s comment helped a little, but he worried there was more to it than that. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Qylar entering something into the helm. “What are you doing over there? Stop toying with the command. I’ve already set the flight plan, and I don’t need you messing with it.”

“Well, Mr. Accomplished Pilot —you didn’t enact the stealth drive. Without that, you might as well roll out a red carpet for anyone who comes looking for you.”

“I didn’t realize this cruiser came equipped with stealth technology,” Cryss murmured. “It’s a passenger ship, not military.”

“A passenger ship that was intended to convey a prince and his consort across multiple systems. Not just any prince, but Krythar’s favored son. Of course he put stealth tech in it.” Qylar hit a few more buttons. “I also changed our destination to Earth. Who the hell wants to go to Legios B this time of year?”

“Earth is the first place my parents will likely look. If they look.”

“A few days ago, I mentioned to Beryn that I’d considered abducting you and taking you to my family’s secluded cabin in the Heliomede System to save you from marrying that spoiled little prince,” Qylar murmured. “And that I’d even loaded it with enough supplies to last us a year.”

Cryss narrowed his eyes. “Misdirection? But Beryn wouldn’t tell my parents anything.”

Qylar smiled. “Of course he wouldn’t. That’s why I ensured your devious sister was in earshot when I said it. She’ll tattle, and your parents will send their scouts in the opposite direction of where we’re going. It will take them months on Earth to get there and back to Nefyria Prime. By then, who knows where we might be?”

Cryss smiled. “I wish you’d told me of this plan sooner. I could’ve hunted for my passport and identification—if there’s still a United States, of course.”

Qylar withdrew something from his vest. “I wasn’t sure if your parents could use our old documents to track us. I secured us both a new US passport and Virginia license.”

“Virginia? After what happened the last time we were there? Why don’t we go somewhere warmer?”

“Just because our licenses are from there doesn’t mean we have to go there. Virginia was another smaller misdirection. I’ve plotted a course for San Francisco.”

“I should’ve known,” Cryss murmured. “Can’t keep away from the leather bars and bears, can you?”

Qylar grinned. “Leather bars and bears, oh my.”

“Is there ever a time you don’t make decisions using your cock?”

“Never. It’s never made a bad one yet.”

Cryss barked with laughter. “I disagree. I think Queen Na’dira would disagree, too.”

Qylar cringed. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop harassing you about the hole you put in me if you never bring that up again.”

The corners of Cryss’s mouth curled upward. “I’m not sure that deal is equitable. Your shame is monumental compared to mine.”

Qylar feigned indignation. “Are you telling me that you have no shame for nearly killing me as a child?”

“It was a flesh wound,” Cryss argued. “It pierced your arm, not your chest.”

“A few inches to the left and I’d be dead right now—and where would you be? Likely married to your unfaithful prince.”

“I highly doubt it. After he told the entire universe who he was and what he’d done, I knew I needed to leave. I would’ve walked away whether you were there or not.”

“Who do you think goaded your prince until he admitted his affair? Had it not been for me, you’d never have known.”

Cryss gasped, sitting up straighter. “You knew?! And didn’t tell me?”

“Had I told you, there would’ve been no way you could’ve pretended to be his kind and amiable fiancé. You wear your heart on your sleeve, but you also wear your contempt just as clearly. I needed you to be your best, charming self in order to guilt him into that confession—which you needed to wiggle out from that contract. You’re now completely free to do as you wish. Hopefully for good.”

“What did I do to deserve such fierce protection?”

Qylar’s smile faded some. “You didn’t treat me as an outcast because of my father’s crimes like the others did. You’ve never judged me. Had you not made me your steward, I would likely be living on one of the prison planets alongside that bastard that spawned me.” Qylar captured his stare. “I owe you my life. I will protect yours— and your happiness —until my dying day.”

“You owe me nothing,” Cryss whispered, a sting coming to his eyes. “Your father’s crimes were not yours and screw anyone who thought they were. It was cruel what they did to you.”

Qylar had deserved more than to be offered a spot as a servant, even if the role had been only a ruse. It had been the only way to save Qylar from the mining prison planet and force the duke to allow him under their roof. Yes, Qylar had had to swallow his pride and face ridicule for a while, but as the years had passed, that had died down some—though many still assumed he was born of bad blood and irredeemable, no matter what he did.

“You save me, and I save you. It’s what we do, brother.”

“I fear my duty will catch up with me eventually. Saving me might end up being a fool’s errand.”

“Not if I can help it. You’ll marry for love, not duty, if I have anything to say about it.”

Cryss sat back, stunned. Marry for love? He’d never considered the prospect, not with his scheming parents and their lust for power. Without the shadow of duty hanging over his head, he wasn’t sure where his life would lead. As a younger man, he’d begrudgingly accepted his lot in life and had tried to do as they’d demanded, but enough was enough. His older brother and sister had married well, both in the courts of Nefyria’s most powerful kings, and two of his younger siblings had managed practical matches amongst high-ranking nobility. His parents had had trouble spawning and didn’t have the massive broods that some other royals had to secure their lines and forge alliances, but couldn’t those marriages be enough?

Qylar’s last comment repeated in his mind. “Did you have a hand in the others?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just said I’d marry for love, not duty, if you had your way—after admitting you were behind the prince’s confession. Did you have a hand in the others?”

Qylar fought a smile.

“Q! Please tell me you didn’t order the princess’s death!”

“Of course not! The first two, absolutely. Those were my handiwork. But the princess was simply a stroke of luck.”

“It was luck that she died?”

“It was luck that you didn’t end up bound to that ghastly woman! You know full well she was vile. Her entire court despised her. When I investigated, her servants practically lined up, offering me story after story of her malevolence. When she caught wind that I was digging into her past, she confronted me. During her shrieking diatribe, she savagely kicked a zelyon pup that later had to be put down. She knew I was there, watching. She had no shame. No remorse. And I doubt it was the first animal she’d harmed. I’d heard whispers of an animal graveyard not far from the palace walls that was filled with her victims, but I never got a chance to confirm it. That’s sociopathic behavior, Cryss! And if it was true, what might she have done to your spawn? Would there have been another graveyard built for your children?”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this? ” He searched Qylar’s face for a couple of seconds, shaken by that news. “Had I known, I could’ve objected to the match.”

Qylar scoffed. “We both know your parents wouldn’t have allowed you to back out. Her father was far too powerful. What I did gave you plausible deniability. When your parents look at you, they only see their son doing his best to fulfill the duty to his bloodline. They’ve bemoaned your unlucky streak, sure, but they’ve never once questioned whether you had a hand in it—because you didn’t.”

“Still,” Cryss said, his voice low. “I never asked you to do any of this.”

“You didn’t have to,” Qylar replied, holding his stare.

“It’s more than anyone would be expected to do. But…” Cryss sighed. “I appreciate you for watching out for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Cryss was overwhelmed by Qylar’s loyalty. He was closer to Qylar than his own brothers. They’d met in the waters of the royal spawning grounds, their friendship an instant connection. The bond they’d forged since was unbreakable. Through highs and tragic lows, they’d supported one another and always would.

“Maybe we should run off and get married,” Cryss murmured. “Friendship and devotion are more important than romance and intimacy, surely.”

“If only I was still a prince,” Qylar said, winking. He snorted. “You know full well your parents would have it annulled before we could get back from the honeymoon.”

Cryss smiled wistfully. “True.”

Qylar snickered. “Though, if I was a prince, you’d have an uphill battle on your hands to sell me on accepting a marriage without sexual intimacy.”

“I’d give you leave to bed whomever you wanted. I know that cock of yours has a mind of its own.”

“ If I wed—which I highly doubt will happen—I plan to be faithful to them for the rest of my days. I’ll only do it for love and not the fleeting kind, but one that’s devout and all-consuming.” Qylar smiled softly, his eyes taking on a dreamy look. “A man whose loss would shatter me into a million pieces, so I’d never let that happen.”

Cryss had never seen that look in Qylar’s eyes before nor heard that tender, wistful tone. “Who knew such a romantic heart could beat inside the chest of a reprobate?”

Qylar smiled wickedly. “So, there you have it. While I’ll do almost anything for you, I’ll only wed for pure, passionate love. Sorry if that breaks your heart.”

“I’m utterly and unreservedly grief-stricken. I might never recover from my anguish. Whatever will become of me?”

“I suspect you’ll salvage the shreds of your spirit and soldier on to find another more worthy of your love and devotion.” Qylar snickered. “And desirous of that big snake of yours inside them.”

“A soft bottom with a big heart. May we both be so lucky,” Cryss murmured.

“Hear, hear,” Qylar replied, hoisting an imaginary glass.

Silence filled the next few minutes and Cryss drifted, lost in thought. Freedom to love whomever he wanted had initially sounded delightful but the more he sat with it, the more his unease grew. What did he know of seduction or relationships? He’d been presented on a silver platter to all the kings in the system, a worthy match for their sons or daughters at the ripe old age of seventeen. Courtesans had taken him to their beds when he’d needed to slake his lusts. He’d fallen into their welcome arms, and they’d expected his coin at the end. Qylar, on the other hand, seemed capable of finding a warm bed anywhere he chose. He’d have to take notes while they were on Earth and learn the ways of seduction.

“Promise me something,” Qylar murmured, breaking the silence.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Don’t allow your parents to convince you to accept a fifth royal engagement,” Qylar said. “You’ve said you were done before the fourth yet here we are.”

“One would think the pool of interested parties would have dried up considering the long line of broken engagements I’ve left in my wake. They’ll likely struggle to find a fifth.”

“Anyone after the third is simply desperate in my opinion,” Qylar replied. “Though, it might take a second death for them to truly label you cursed.”

“Oof,” Cryss cringed. “I’ll promise—as long as you promise something to me.”

“What do you wish of me, my liege?”

Cryss snickered at the title before letting the humor slip from his face. “Have a life of your own—you can’t if you’re constantly sweeping up after me.”

Qylar fought a smile. “Well, if you would stop agreeing to these royal engagements, I could live my life.”

“Then it’s settled,” Cryss said. “Seek this man you want while you can. I mean, you are forty now and not getting any younger. I don’t want to be blamed for your continued spinsterhood.”

Qylar snickered. “Old maids… the both of us.”

Cryss barked with laughter, but his joy was short lived. The ship shuddered around them, alarms sounding across both the helm and engine controls. Cryss read the vizscreen data, searching for clues as to what was happening. He split his arms into tentacle form so he could manage more of the controls.

“We entered the vortex to Earth’s galaxy moments ago. The shaking seems to have coincided with that,” Qylar said, stretching a tentacle to the security panel to bring up that vizscreen. “We have no other ships in the vicinity, either. Have you heard any warnings of vortex destabilization?”

“I haven’t. The autopilot would’ve redirected us if alerts had been logged into the system,” Cryss replied, reading the data on the vizscreen. “We’re rapidly losing power to both engines. Something’s draining them and fast, but I don’t see where it’s going.”

“Could it be the vortex itself?”

“In theory, yes,” Cryss murmured. “But not at this accelerated rate.”

“Unless we can get the engines back online, we’ll be at the mercy of the gravitational forces of the vortex,” Qylar stated. “We might not have enough momentum to exit the void.”

The ship shook again, violently. Alarms rose for hull pressure. A hull breech was the last thing they needed.

“I’m running engine diagnostics,” Cryss announced, recalibrating the analytics seconds before another forceful shudder nearly flung him from his seat. He reached for the holster restraints and locked himself in before evaluating the data. “The power’s being diverted— but where ? Nothing’s showing on the logs.”

“We’ve traveled through this vortex hundreds of times without issue,” Qylar said. “It must be destabilizing.”

“Perhaps…” Cryss redirected more power to the engines. “Help me shut down any non-essential functions and divert that power to the engines.”

The ship’s vibration didn’t stop after the next tremor. It only grew worse as the seconds passed. Both Cryss and Qylar worked to keep the engines functioning. Cryss considered the data. The vortex had been stable for over three centuries, and he’d heard no warnings that it was showing signs of weakening. The ship’s computer registered no flux in the vortex’s channel outside the ship.

Cryss noticed the readings for the hull pressure rose. Without full propulsion, the gravitational pull inside the vortex would cause a breech. They needed to determine what was drawing power before they were set adrift, without engines. Something whispered in his mind. He turned to Qylar. “We have gone through this vortex repeatedly—but never using a stealth drive.”

Qylar’s eyes widened for a second before he quickly disengaged the system. The shuddering and creaking of metal stopped instantly. They sat in silence for a moment, both of them clearly waiting to see if it returned. After a full minute, Qylar turned to face him, wide-eyed. “Nowhere in our training was it mentioned that stealth tech couldn’t be used in a wormhole.”

“From my understanding of stealth tech, it not only cloaks the ship but masks heat signatures as well. My guess is either our heat signature rose significantly in the fold vortex or the change in gravitational pull on the hull made maintaining the cloak near impossible.” Cryss checked the engines. “The power drain has been controlled. We’re sitting at both engines at thirty percent.”

“Will that be enough power to exit the vortex?”

“Perhaps,” Cryss replied. “Without a solar source to refuel our cells inside the fold, we may be trapped if we can’t power through. We can’t send a distress call from inside, either.”

“So, what do we do?”

Cryss considered their options. “We’ve diverted all non-essential power to the engines as it is. There’s nothing else we can do but maintain course and hope we have the power and momentum to breech the other end of the vortex.”

Weighted silence hung between them. His mind raced, seeking a solution to their power issue.

“What if we put on pressurized suits and diverted life support to the engines? Would that give us a significant boost in power?” Qylar asked.

“Two, maybe three percent at best is my guess. But if we shut those systems down, we can’t reengage them until we’re out of the vortex and able to collect enough solar irradiance. If we get stuck here, we’ll only have enough oxygen for two hours.”

“There should be six suits on this level—that’s three for each of us. We can transfer the oxygen from the extra two if we need it.”

“That’s still only giving us max six hours each—for only another two to three percent power? Is it worth that?”

“That two to three percent might be the difference between getting out and not,” Qylar said. “If we don’t shut down life support and can’t get out, the gravitational forces of the wormhole will eventually destroy the hull—and we’re done if that happens. That’ll suck the air supply out in seconds. Either way, we stop breathing.”

Cryss searched Qylar’s face a few seconds. “I guess two or three percent’s better than nothing.”

They both quickly stepped into an emergency pressurized suit and re-secured themselves into their seats. With the loss of life support, they’d also lose gravity. Cryss turned to Qylar. “Ready?”

Qylar nodded.

“Diverting power from life support to the engines now,” Cryss said, sliding the gauge on the engine control panel. An immediate sensation of weightlessness lifted him slightly, his body pressing against the harness. “It gave us four percent. A little better than I’d guessed.”

“I’ll take the good news at this point. We’ve got less than five minutes until we reach the end of the vortex at this velocity,” Qylar said. He turned to eye Cryss. “We’re going to make it. This isn’t where we end.”

Cryss nodded, not as sure as Qylar sounded.

After, they were both silent—reading the data and monitoring systems—until they neared the exit. Sweat beaded on his temples and the back of his neck, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He tried to calm. The faster his heart, the more oxygen he’d use.

“Thirty seconds to exit,” Qylar murmured.

Cryss struggled to breathe. Either they made it out—or… there was no or. They had to make it out. He steadied his breathing, tamping down on his fear. He’d run similar scenarios at the Academy, preparing him for moments like the one they were in. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, calming himself.

This isn’t where we end.

“Five, four, three…” Qylar counted down.

The hull creaked against the gravitational forces as it pushed against the end of the vortex, the sound piercing even inside the suit. Cryss sensed their loss of momentum. The ship was struggling to break through. He took a deep breath and remembered his thousands of hours of training. His gaze fell on the thruster array. It would rob the engines of some power, but a sudden burst might be enough to slice through. He recalibrated them and set them to burst as hard and long as they could.

The creaking sound grew louder… and then they broke through the void and silence settled around them.

“Shit, we made it,” Qylar muttered before checking the navigation panel. “In Mar’s orbit, as anticipated.”

Cryss relaxed for two seconds, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He leaned forward and toggled the solar controls. “Deploying the solar sails now,” Cryss said. Once they’d unfurled, he checked the gauges. “Solar irradiance is at forty-six percent.” He calculated the time. “Four hours to full charge.”

“And we have six hours of oxygen,” Qylar said, grinning through the face shield of his suit. “I told you we’d be fine.”

Cryss checked the data. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“The gravitational pull of the vortex impacted primary hull integrity. We have enough to enter Earth’s atmosphere, but likely not enough to get back out without repairs. Repairs we’ll struggle to do on that planet.”

“So… we’ll be stranded on Earth?”

“For at least six months, since you sent my family in the opposite direction,” Cryss said. “Longer if they decide not to track me down at all.”

“Fuck,” Qylar spat. “Should I send out a distress call?”

Cryss knew they should, but he wasn’t ready to return to the chaos of his life, especially if they had to come rescue him out of Earth’s system. He’d never hear the end of it.

“We don’t have to send it now. We can send it later, after you’ve had some time away from all that shit—that is, unless Earth’s atmosphere would prevent a call from going where it needed.”

“I’m not sure. There’s always the Interstellar embassy. The Ullurians are in control right now. They might take their sweet time to offer assistance considering the recent conflict between our systems, but they can’t refuse help. It goes against the Interstellar charter.”

Qylar eyed Cryss. “What do you want to do? You lead, I follow.”

Cryss held Qylar’s gaze, unsure. It made sense to send out the beacon, but being shipwrecked sounded almost divine after the last few months. Qylar was right. He’d been happiest while living there, before the full weight of his nobility had fallen on his shoulders. Back on Earth, he could once again shrug off that weight and live free for a while.

Until they couldn’t anymore.

“I won’t make that decision for both of us,” Cryss murmured. “The lure of being a no one on Earth again is too tempting. I won’t trap you there because I’m running from my birthright. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I loved our time on Earth,” Qylar murmured. “That’s no trap. Back home is the trap.”

Cryss nodded in agreement. “So we’re agreed? We go to Earth and let fate take its course?”

Qylar smiled. “Yep.”

Cryss smiled to himself. “I never expected to feel such joy at the prospect of being shipwrecked.”