Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance (22 page)

“Not at all,” I said, and she sat down, the two other people moving to sit on either side of her.

“Allow me to introduce special agents Matsuko and Astor,” Mireena said. She gestured to the man, human and handsome in a traditional way, brown hair cropped short and styled carefully into a fauxhawk. He was mid-thirties, I would have guessed, with gunmetal grey eyes and a roguish grin.

“Thank you,” he said, shaking my hand, “for agreeing to speak with us today. Getting Tel back is of the utmost importance to this unit.”

“Teldara and Ms. Zehr,” the other woman said. She was human as well, with deep set brown eyes and prominent lashes, flawless milk-pale skin, and thin as a reed.

“Yes, of course,” the man said. “Oh, forgive me -- I’m Will Astor, and this is my partner, Maelin Matsuko. Please, tell us everything you remember, from the very beginning.”

And I did. I paid particular attention to what I could recall of the attack itself. Teldara’s friend who had betrayed us, losing consciousness — and of the ship itself: the rooms I could remember, being held in the cages.

“But you should speak to the other girls as well,” I said. “They will remember more than I do.”

“Thank you,” Matsuko said, “we have begun that process already.”

“And if there is anything that I can do to help you,” I said, “please let me know. I want very badly to get my friends back safely.”

“So do we,” Astor replied. But as they got up to leave, something caught my attention.

“Wait! You called her ‘Tel’. Do you know her personally?”

Will Astor smiled, and chuckled wryly. “Sure. Tel and I go way back. So don’t you worry — I swear to you I’ll get her back.”

“But you have done quite a lot to help those girls,” Matsuko said. “You got two of them back, you helped two others. And I have no doubt that everything they can tell us will lead us back to Ms. Kinesse and Ms. Zehr.”

The special agents thanked us again, bade farewell to Mireena Mafaren, and excused themselves to get on with their work. That is when Mireena put on her best attempt at a genuine smile and glanced between my mother, my father, and myself.

“So,” she said, lacing her fingers and setting the on the tabletop between us. “You mentioned in your message this morning, Cora, that there was something else the three of you wished to discuss.”

“Yes,” my mother confirmed, and turned her gaze on me in silent urging to speak.

I cleared my throat and leaned in, mirroring Mireena’s body language. “As you have already guessed, I’m with child.” I don’t know what made me decide to use this archaic term for “pregnant”. Something about the solemnity of the occasion, I imagine, or me trying to make myself seem more grown up and ready than I actually felt.

“Yes,” Mireena confirmed, “and I’m so thrilled. For you, and for what this means for our endeavors.”

“Well, after much consideration, I’ve determined that the best thing for me and my baby is for us to be with its father, back on Qetesh.”

Mireena nodded her head and looked past me to my parents, who sat in silent support at my sides. “And you agree that this is the best course of action?” she asked them.

“Yes,” my father confirmed.

“In fact,” Mom chimed in, “we would like to go with her. Just for the year. To see her through a healthy pregnancy and delivery, and to ensure her continued health and well-being, and that of the child.”

“We feel that if we can collect data about what has made her pregnancy successful where others have failed, we can strengthen the program,” Dad said

Mireena gave a nod of her head. “I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I think she ought to stay here, with you, for the duration of her pregnancy so that we are able to learn as much as we can from it.”

I scoffed. “My husband deserves to be there when his child is born,” I protested.

“Well, certainly,” Mireena said. “But you elected to come with me. I can’t very well turn this ship around just to accommodate your whims. Do you have any notion about how much time and money we’ve spent rescuing girls from the surface of Qetesh this week alone?” Mireena’s smile was gone then as she rose to her feet.

“I’m sorry — but for the time being, you will have to remain where you are. We want to study you — we have to study you. The continued existence of this race of people for whom you purport to care depends on the things that your very body can teach us. So can you return to your husband and your adopted home planet? Of course you can, child. I would never try to keep someone from their heart’s greatest hopes. But now is not the time.”

“But I think if—”

“My decision,” Mireena interrupted, “is absolutely final.” Mireena rose slowly and elegantly to her feet. I wanted to argue with her, I wanted to remind her that I had saved her daughter, but her expression would brook no argument. I knew it would do no good, that I would only be digging myself a deeper hole. So, I nodded my head and pretended to understand.

“Now,” Mireena said, “there is much to be done. Please make sure that you schedule weekly appointments in the medical bay so that we can keep abreast of every changing development. And allow me to say, alongside my congratulations, that I am so very pleased you have decided to give birth to the first of a new hybrid species.”

She turned on her heel, then, and left us alone in the conference room. Suddenly, in her absence, I realized why everything felt so strange: The
Atria
was a sterile place, modern and sleek, but cold. I wanted to go back to dirty, uncivilized Qetesh, where my heart was, and where everything — even during the ice cold of the Winternight — was warm.

“Don’t worry, Lore,” my mother said, reaching out to put her hand on my shoulder. “We will find a way. I swear it.”

“She wants to keep me locked up, essentially,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me. “She wants to monitor me, experiment on me.”

“She never said—”

I gave a shake of my head. “It doesn’t matter. I need to find a way to get off this ship and get back to Calder.”

“Your husband,” my father said coolly, and I looked up at him. There was pain painted in his eyes, but he smiled from beneath his moustache all the same. “Forgive me,” he muttered. “I just had always dreamed of being there when you finally married.”

“Come with me,” I said, “both of you. Help me to find a way back to Qetesh and then come there with me. Do like you said you would do, and help me to make sure that the pregnancy is healthy. Meet my husband. Be a part of this with me.” I reached out and took each of their hands in mine, and looked between them. They were unsure, but a hopeful smile played on my mother’s lips.

After a beat, my father side. “Oh, all right,” he said, and both of his women rushed forward to embrace him. He laughed, and held us tight.

“But Mireena isn’t going to like it.”

“She’ll deal,” I said.

“And she’ll understand,” mom said. “She’s a mother, and she helped spearhead this entire program. She’ll understand.”

“So, it’s settled,” I said, and for the first time in days I felt the pulse of hope deep inside me. “We’re going to find a way to get off this ship and get back to Qetesh.”

The grandest ship in the federation armada had become a prison, and my parents and I were its trepidatious prisoners. We sneaked through its halls on silent feet, like cats keeping to the shadows, even though much of our day was as normal as we were trying to make it seem. My mother and father didn’t once shirk their duties to the Echelon. We relegated our plotting and scheming to the evening hours, huddled over supper and exchanging ideas in near-silent whispers.

“I know how to fly a transport ship,” my father offered, but my mother rolled her eyes.

“Please, Jack. The last time you flew one of those things was…what? Thirty years ago?”

My father shrugged, abashed, and turned his attention to his bottle of beer. He used his napkin to wipe the condensation from the side of the glass. “I could still do it.”

“The technology has changed so much,” Mom went on, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with her hand. She’d wounded his ego, and it showed.

“Not that much. And anyway, those vessels are absurdly expensive. They don’t just throw ‘em out and buy new ones.”

“Jack…”

“There has to be someone we can ask for help,” I said, leaning back in my chair at the dining room table. My mother had served up a huge pot of spaghetti and meatballs, and I’d had two servings. I was ravenous, already. “Someone with… I don’t know, money? If not know-how.”

“But someone with money who isn't connected to the Mafarens,” my dad said, rubbing thoughtfully at the salt and pepper bristles on his chin.

“That rules out just about everyone,” Mom said, chagrined. She rubbed at her eyes with her thumb and index finger, and I glanced between them, suddenly keenly aware of just how much stress this little endeavor was bringing into their lives. I heaved a sigh, and shook my head.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, placing a hand on my belly. “I shouldn’t be bringing you guys into this. It isn’t fair.”

“Nonsense,” Mom assured me, but I could see by the crease between her eyebrows that my summation that it was stressful was fair. “We want to help you.”

“Of course we do,” Dad echoed. “And we’ll do everything we can.”

“Because you were right,” Mom went on. “It’s not without its dangers, this pregnancy. There is no precedent for us to follow here, not really. We don’t know what complications could arise.”

“And it’s about you, Lore. Not the science, not the project. We care about that—”

“Of course we do, but not half so much as we care about you and your safety and well-being.”

Maybe it was the sudden influx of hormones, but I found myself a little choked up. “You’re sure?” I asked. “We don’t know what kind of consequences this will really carry for you. Mireena Mafaren may not let you return at all. You may be suspended, or even fired. And then what will you do?”

My parents shared a look, and I could see all of their years of love glowing between them. My father reached out and took my mother’s hand, giving it a squeeze, before they both returned their attention to me. “Well,” he said, “it just so happens that our daughter is a queen. We might find ourselves settling on the planet where she rules.”

Relief swept over me, and that was the last note of dissent I gave them. I knew they were in it, as I was. I rose to my feet and snatched my plate, heading back to the kitchen and taking the liberty of refilling my bowl with a third helping of spaghetti. Sitting down, my mother grinned.

“All right, then,” I said, twirling noodles on my fork. “Let’s keep brainstorming.”

We sat there together, my mother sipped her wine, my father his beer, and I continued to shovel spaghetti into my face.

“Someone with money, or expertise…” Dad quietly mused.

“Or the ability to keep their mouths shut,” said Mom.

“Or,” Dad said, leaning forward, “someone who can keep a secret. Or who needs a favor.”

I paused, frozen mid-twirl. I had it. “Tierney,” I said. “Tierney Mafaren. She’ll help us.”

My parents' living quarters were beautifully appointed, with every modern amenity that anyone could ask for. We had space, and plenty of it, and we three fit happily there. They had even expressed a desire to downsize now that I no longer lived with them, but hadn’t made the move yet. Even still, the Mafaren living quarters made my parents look like they came from some sort of tenement building in the ghetto.

They took up the space at the front of the ship, right above the ship’s bridge, and boasted the finest views available from any point of the ship. Their great hall was a bulbous window at the nose of the
Atria
, and you could stand in their foyer, beneath the dome of impeccably clean glass, and feel as though there were nothing separating you from the vast expanse of space. It would have been unsettling if not for the chandeliers floating gently overhead, giving the space the feel of some place magical.

I walked alone into the foyer, and stood on black marble floors beneath a black star sky, tiered crystal emanating warm orange light from directly overhead. Just walking through their front door, I felt underdressed.

“Lorelei,” Tierney said, emerging up from a staircase in the far corner and meeting me in the center of the room’s circular floor. She wore a floor-length dress in black, made casual only by the ballet flats on her feet and the airy fabric. I wondered if the Mafaren clan just lounged around the house in evening-wear. “I was told that you’d come to see me.”

“Yes,” I said, still admiring my surroundings. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have a moment.”

“I have nothing but time,” she said, and turned, gesturing toward the staircase. I followed her across the room, casting a final glance over my shoulder at the floating chandelier as I went. I knew it must have been something magnetic, and yet it still sent a thrill through me to see it hover like that.

I followed her down the spiral staircase and we descended into the part of the Mafaren living quarters that were actually for living, not just for intimidating guests. They were still impressive, designed to harken back to a time where having money meant that everything was rich woods, dark leathers, plush cushions.

The hallways were lit with warm, indirect lighting, giving everything an elegant glow. Tierney led me silently until she pushed through a large, oak door into a bedroom. Her bedroom, I figured. There was a four-post bed in distressed white wood, a red duvet cover and about a million decorative pillows sewn with embroidery and delicate little beads.

There was a matching armoire across from the bed, and she led me past those pieces into a sitting area by a series of windows. Real windows, looking out at the stars. Tierney gestured to one of the red arm chairs angled toward a small table and I sat, while she took the other. She snatched up a remote control and hit a button, and the windows transitioned from the natural sight of stars to a projected image of a country window: red curtains framed a view of a setting sun over vast, rolling hills. It was quaint, somehow, and gave the room an entirely new feel. Like we were in a grand old farmhouse somewhere.