The Baylan Chronicles: DRACE (A sci-fi alien romance) Read online

  They were speaking in English, Drace realized belatedly. It had become a habit. He couldn't switch to Baylan now that Rachel was sitting up, the sheet clutched to her chest. She looked tousled and sexy, but he wasn't fooled by her sleepy appearance. His woman missed nothing. She wouldn't stand for being shut out of the conversation.

  "What's going on?" she asked.

  "Another ship in our fleet has entered Earth's atmosphere, but please don't worry." Arten said, turning his reassuring, diplomatic smile on her. "I trust you're enjoying your stay so far?"

  "Arten." Drace snatched a set of clothes from a nearby closet. An impending confrontation with her home planet was not how he’d hoped to introduce Rachel to Baylan life. "How far have things progressed?"

  His brother sighed. "Well, considering the amount of time that has passed since––"

  "Wait." Rachel scraped her fingers through her hair, tousling her hair even more. "Are you saying the people on Earth can see these ships? They know the Baylans are here?"

  "No, they know only the Veska-3 is here," Arten replied. "They aren't aware of the rest of us. The full fleet is still hidden behind light refractors, which render us invisible."

  "Exactly how big is the fleet?" She asked it on a wince, as if bracing for a blow.

  "The fleet is comprised of thirty-two base ships, like this one, one hundred and twenty four battle cruisers, and eight stealth cruisers,” Arten replied. “Not including personal shuttles—which are owned by private Baylan citizens, plus small attack ships and medical and supply carriers. The total number is between seventy and eighty thousand ships."

  When she spoke, her voice was rough. “ Whoa...What's going to happen?"

  "I'll tell you what’s going to happen." Drace yanked on a fresh suit. "I'm going to the Veska-3, and I'm going end Harc's irritating life. Saar-king or not, he has no authority––"

  "Now brother," Arten began, voice tight with alarm, "let's use our heads."

  "Stuff your diplomacy," Drace growled. "He's grossly overstepped. There are better ways of approaching a planet than just showing up in their air space, which is guaranteed to provoke an attack. Humans will only harm themselves and their planet. What is the reaction of the other Saar-kings?"

  "Reaction is sharply divided," Arten said. "Most, like you, are displeased by Harc's abrupt approach. Human militaries of every country are on high alert. They have not attacked, but they are arming every weapon, mobilizing every army."

  Drace snorted. “Of course they are. The people down there are probably terrified.”

  "You can hardly blame them." Arten shook his head. “And they are unaware that their even their most destructive weapons would be ineffective against us."

  "But when they do realize, there's no telling what they'll do.” Drace raked fingers through his hair. “We don’t want war with these people."

  "It would hardly be war," Arten said quietly.

  "We don't want them destroying themselves in an effort to destroy us."

  “Maybe I can help," Rachel said, breaking into their conversation. “Maybe I can convince my people that you’re here in peace.”

  Drace stopped and looked to her. Her words set off a scratching feeling, clawing up his back. It was his worst fear. The one thing he wanted so desperately to prevent––Rachel going back. He couldn't protect her. He had hoped that time on the Raplan-B might sway her thoughts away from leaving. Harc's actions had undermined that process. Of course, she'd stand with her own people. It was what he would do.

  "Excuse me, what?" Arten asked, sounding incredulous. "You can't go back now. If it was dangerous before, it's suicidal now."

  Wrapping the sheet around her, Rachel rose from the bed, but she looked unconcerned that Arten was seeing her like this. She was unselfconscious and proud, and Drace's mouth went dry with wanting her.

  "I need to go back," she said. “I’ve spent time with you and on this ship. I can help spread the truth about you––that you're not here to destroy Earth."

  Drace held his fists stiffly at his sides. "Rachel, I will not send you to your death, or worse."

  She raised her chin. "Is there a way to take me back down undetected?"

  Drace nodded, but his gut was a twist of pain.

  "Then do it," she said with the authority of a queen, which of course, she was. "The people of Earth think the end is near, that aliens are going to kill them, enslave them, use their bodies for weird experiments. I have no influence over anything, but I can't bear the thought of my people down there living in terror. But I can tell you the people of Earth need some clear heads down there. They need people who are not panicked to help those who are.”

  Arten frowned. "I mean no offense, but your race behaves quite foolishly when they perceive a threat. If you were captured, and they learned that you had a relationship with one of us..." he faded off with a wince. "It wouldn't go well for you."

  "I know that." She passed a shaking hand over her forehead. "But I doubt the government is going to go around screening every single person to find out if they had a Baylan boyfriend. I imagine their attention will be centered on the ship they can see. There’s no better time to create a new identity and—and...” she swallowed heavily, as if the words cost her. “And start over. I don't know why, but I feel cowardly, hiding up here. I need to help, in whatever small way I can.”

  Drace nodded, feeling reluctantly proud of her. Proud that his soul had chosen such a strong, selfless woman. "You feel this way because you are a leader."

  "No." Her gaze turned to the floor. "I'm an office assistant. I was briefly a college student, and then I was the stupid girlfriend who fell in love too easily and couldn’t see when it was over.” Color rose in her cheeks. “I have never been a leader."

  Drace took her chin in his fingers and turned her face to his. He wanted her looking at him for what he had to say. "You weren't a leader because you failed to see yourself clearly, and neither did any of those idiots you were involved with." His soul markings pulsed at her nearness, at the rawness of his emotions. "Make very certain that your desire to return to Earth is because of the reasons you say, and not because you are so afraid of being left again, that you are determined to do the leaving.”

  He watched her eyes go wide and glisten with tears. As he’d expected, he'd hit a nerve.

  Her gaze slid from his, but she leaned into his touch. "I'm human. Earth is my planet. Not this. I'm not— She cut off the rest, but thanks to their bond, he could feel the words she hid. Smart enough. Brave enough. Strong enough. Anything enough.

  "I'm out of my depth." She took the hand he held on her chin and pressed a kiss to the palm. His fingers closed around the kiss, as if he could hold it––and her––here forever. "I need to go home, Drace. I have nothing to offer your people, but I do have… I will try to have something to offer mine.”

  A look of unbearable pain washed through him. He released a long, shuddering sigh. "If it's what you want, I'll return you to Earth."

  "Are you insane, brother?" Arten threw up his hands. "She can't go back now. They're monitoring every inch of sky."

  "There's always a crack."

  Arten shook his head. "This is self-destruction––worse than your last trip down there. You got captured. It didn't take them long to figure out you weren't one of them. You're lucky to be alive."

  "I have to do this." Drace turned steely eyes on his brother. "I won't hold my mate prisoner."

  Arten threw up his hands. "Thank the stars I don't have a mate."

  "This is a crucial time for the Baylan people. We cannot afford a distracted leader." Drace's voice sounded wooden to his ears, even though the words were true. He was distracted. No, he was heartbroken. "Get ready. We leave as soon as possible."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rachel blinked. She thought she'd have to fight him on this. But he stood there, looking utterly defeated.

  His gaze slid over the wall behind her. Then he gestured to a flat blue circle on the wall
by the door. "Talk into it. It will notify me when you're ready to leave." He gestured to Arten and walked out, his brother’s shocked stare bouncing between the two of them before he followed.

  With the room to herself, Rachel slowly sank onto the bed. Her hands shook. Her head was a spinning mess of conflict. This was the right thing to do. It was. It felt right. But it also did not. But she’d made her decision. She was going home. She would do everything she could to reassure people that the Baylans were not their enemy.

  A little while later, she was dressed in fresh clothes modeled to look like Earth clothes––jeans and a T-shirt she found in the bureau––and as ready as she was going to be. Drace looked incredibly official in a snug black uniform. She took in the many different insignias along the neck, dotting a line down the sleeves. He looked his role of ship commander.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  No! "Yes."

  He nodded stiffly. He didn't look like her lover. His harsh expression was frozen, his emotions hidden. "Come."

  Rachel sighed and followed him through the turns and lifts that he knew intimately, but which confused her. Navigating the ship would be like learning the streets of a new town or city. But she wouldn't be here long enough to find her way around. The thought gave her a pang of regret.

  They arrived at a spacious hangar dimly lit by green lights. Warm air rushed around them. Thousands of ships ranging from tiny one-person-sized to large enough for several hundred sat on glowing circular pads. Technicians buzzed around, checking ships, peering through tinted goggles. Rachel felt Drace's hand on the small of her back. He pointed toward a small sleek ship shaped like a teardrop. A ramp extended and she walked up it. She settled in one of the two seats, and he climbed into the other. A wide array of controls fanned out before them on a flat screen.

  "I'm sorry, Drace," she said quietly. "I wanted to be with you. I did."

  He stopped, hands paused over the controls. "I understand putting your people over your own needs. It's what I would do. It's why we are equals. A match." He sighed, closed his eyes. "I do not believe you returning to Earth is the best way to help them, but you are not ready for this. If it is your decision to return to your planet, I won't hold you here." His hands moved again, deftly piloting the ship to an airlock and beyond, to open space.

  She pushed back tears. Now was the time to be brave. To be strong and say goodbye with dignity. And who knew? They could meet again. It could happen.

  “You asked to be brought to farmland in the region of”—he checked the readout—“Nebraska. Our navigation team found your grandmother’s location. You might have let me know you had a relative living there,” he said tightly. “I could have arranged to bring her aboard the Raplan-B.”

  “She’d never leave Nebraska,” she said softly.

  “There are few people and few monitoring devices in that area,” he went on, as if she hadn’t said anything. “You'll have to walk for a couple of miles, but I can't take you closer to your grandmother’s home without drawing attention. I'll have to make the ship visible once we're in Earth's atmosphere. The cloaking device works only in the upper atmosphere."

  "Okay," she croaked out. "Thank you."

  The small ship warmed as it came closer to Earth, and then they were back in the blue sky she knew. The land here was flat, divided into grids of fields, as Drace had described. Nebraska. It was the same as she remembered. If she thought she'd be relieved to be back, she was wrong. Conflict still rode her hard. Was she doing the right thing? Could she make a difference? Could she move on from Drace? But here she was, so…" Right now, anyone can see us?"

  He nodded. "Let's hope no one is looking up."

  Everyone was probably looking up, if a giant space ship was visible in another patch of sky. She craned her neck until she saw it in the distance––the Veska-3––and let out a gasp. God, it was huge. Massive silver and black and utterly menacing, it hung in the sky far to the west of them.

  "I can't imagine how terrified everyone must be," she murmured.

  He shot her a glance. "And you think you can ease their fears?"

  "I can try. I can talk to anyone who will listen. I don't want people to die because they're afraid of you."

  He didn't say anything, but angled the ship toward the center of a particularly large field. The small shuttle whooshed to a stop six feet above the ground. Drace opened the hatch below them. "Thought you'd prefer it this way, with stairs."

  "Thank you." Rachel grabbed his hand and held it to her cheek. "For everything. I'll never forget you." Her words, though she meant them, felt empty.

  He turned his gaze to hers. Dark, blazing blue eyes met hers. In them, she could see how much this was costing him. How much letting her go was hurting him.

  His shoulders slumped. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He nodded toward the open hatch, and steps unfolded. "Go. I have a finite amount of willpower."

  Leaving him felt unnatural, but she could barely think above the roaring in her head and the voice screaming at her to stay with him. She climbed from her seat and down the steps. Her feet landed on the soft earth. The brown stumps of cut cornstalks stretched out in impossibly long rows. She looked up at him. "Goodbye, Drace."

  "Rachel, you are my mate, no matter where you go, no matter what you do." His eyes pierced her. His hands gripped either side of the hatch so hard the knuckles were white. "I love you. And I always will."

  Love. No man had ever said those words to her before. Emotion, unlike any she'd ever known, surged within her. It pressed against her ribs and made her heart feel swollen twice its size. He didn’t just want her. He loved her.

  Maybe it was hearing the words spoken aloud. Maybe it was knowing that if they parted, it would probably be for good, but in that moment, she knew this was a mistake. Yes, if she stayed with Drace, she'd have to give up Earth as her home. Neither of those things had changed, but she couldn't deny that feeling the ground beneath her feet came without relief or a feeling of rightness. The only thing she wanted to do was climb back into the shuttle and into the arms of her lover. He was home. She pressed her hands to the steps and leaned up. "Drace, I––"

  "Step away from the craft, miss," shouted a voice behind her.

  She whipped around as Drace snarled out a word that certainly meant something filthy in Baylan. Not that she cared. Curses fell from her own lips, too.

  She went perfectly still. "How did they find us?"

  "I don't know."

  About fifty soldiers faced her, guns aimed and ready. Surrounded. She could tell by the stiff way they held themselves that they were afraid. Of her. Of the ship.

  Of course they were afraid. This was not what these men were trained for. When they joined the military, they assumed they'd face enemies on a battlefield––human enemies.

  Not aliens.

  Certainly not aliens that looked like humans.

  These soldiers had no idea if she was human or alien. They would shoot her first, then figure it out.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "Hello again, Miss Harkett." The voice was familiar.

  Drace peered out the transparent hull, past the row of soldiers to a dark-suited pair behind them. It was the man and woman who came looking for him at the clinic. The soldiers wore compact gas masks over their faces. That was not a good sign.

  Dept. 6. Stars, he should’ve known better, but he'd chosen this shuttle because Rachel had an aversion to the Astrolight lift, and because it was tiny enough to avoid being detected by most Earth satellites. Since shuttles like this were usually for ship-to-ship transport, it lacked all but basic scanning capabilities.

  Rachel hadn't moved a muscle. She stood against the stairs, perfectly still. Her fear was palpable. She was painfully exposed. He considered his options. He had few, but the shuttle did have one weapon. Using it would not win him any points with Rachel.

  Those Dept. 6 bastards were telling her to step away from the shuttle. To come with them. That nothing bad would happen to
her if she just came with them.

  Metal clicked as guns prepared to fire. He caught a whiff of something familiar––the nerve agent used on him before, the day he was captured. Hence, why they were all wearing the masks. They knew their weapons could be used against them, so gas was used.

  The cockpit was right behind him. He reached back and moved his hand to the controls. He'd deal with Rachel’s fury later.

  Her gaze turned to him. What do we do? her eyes asked him.

  That small movement was all it took. One of the soldiers, twitchy enough at standing there facing a hovering spacecraft, squeezed the trigger. Drace sensed the energy exploding from the weapon. His affinity for metal made him acutely aware of it, but his power was limited over that many guns being operated by that many people. He only had an instant, but he pushed out with his mind to knock the bullet off its course toward Rachel. To his horror, it continued on, unaffected by his powers. It pierced her chest and she collapsed in the cornfield.

  Drace’s heart stopped. His hands shook. Stars, those weren’t metal bullets in those guns. They had to be some type of plastic, or stone, rendering him powerless once the weapons were fired. A giant vise crushed his chest. Rage overflowed, turning his vision red-tinged and setting off a roaring in his ears that blotted out all other sounds. He wanted to slaughter these people. He wanted to end them all. If this shuttle had been equipped for fighting like the larger ones, he may have done just that.

  They killed one of their own. His mate. That deserved some punishment. He deserved some retribution.

  With a shaking hand, he pressed a button.

  A wave of heat emanated from the shuttle, sweeping through the fields and over the humans like a gust of hot wind. The moment it touched them, the soldiers and Dept. 6 agents slumped to the ground, eyes rolled back in their heads. Weapons slipped from limp hands. The small troop became a motionless human pile. The pulse interrupted their mental function, overloading their primitive brains and knocking them out. They weren't dead, but they would wake up in a few hours wishing they were.