Rosemary

 

 

Hazel missed her calling as a travel agent. The proof arrived the next day. The small package contained paper tickets, an itinerary, and two in-ear translation devices, which she was glad to see. Rosemary had worried about the language barrier but didn’t have the cash for an implanted translation chip. Michael was too young to have something like that in his still-developing brain. The itinerary had them take a shuttle to the military base on the moon and from there a shuttle to a series of teleportation gates. The entire trip would take twenty hours.

The idea of teleportation didn’t sit well with Rosemary, but the alternative was weeks in a slow-moving shuttle. She could barely imagine being cooped up in a shuttle, let alone Michael trying to stay in his seat and sit quietly for days on end. No thanks. She would take her chances with the teleportation gates.

They left three days later, which was enough time for Rosemary to explain Michael’s prolonged absence from school and pack. She wasn’t sure what to bring for a two-week trip or how to dress for the weather. Hazel said it was a winter holiday, so Rosemary packed for a winter ski trip, not that she ever went on one. She packed coats, hat, gloves, and scarves. That was obvious. Snow boots and heavy socks. Casual clothes and a formal outfit, just in case she needed to attend a fancy party or dinner. Toiletries, of course.

She packed books and activities to keep Michael busy. He insisted on bringing his soccer ball. It wouldn’t fit in the suitcase, so he would have to carry it in his backpack. She didn’t fight him on it. A busy child was a well-behaved child. If Michael found himself bored or restless, he could wear himself out chasing a ball.

She loaded up her tablet computer with books.

Finally, a gift for the host. Rosemary heard on television that the Mahdfel liked coffee. Okay, it was a soap opera but truth in fiction, right? She grabbed a bag of her favorite roast and a box of chocolate. If even the gift was a flop, it was the thought that counted.

That was how Rosemary found herself with two very heavy suitcases and one overly-excited seven-year-old chasing a soccer ball down the airport concourse. “Michael, stop!”

Of course, he didn’t stop. Why would he stop like a sane person?

“Don’t worry; I’ll get it, Mom.”

Every set of eyes in the airport watched her. Judged her.

“Mom of the year,” she mumbled under her breath as security approached her. The tall man had a black and white ball tucked under his arm and Michael’s shirt collar in his other hand. The guard did not look happy.

“Ma’am? You need to come with me.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. The trip just started, and already she was exhausted. No more off-planet vacations. “He has so much energy. I’ll put the ball away. It won’t happen again.”

“Follow me, ma’am.”

The guard deposited her at a boarding gate, rather than wherever it was troublesome passengers went. True to her word, the ball went into the backpack to stay. Before she knew it, they were on the moon.

The rest of the journey went smoothly. The second shuttle had more legroom than the first commuter shuttle, but it was little more than a glorified bus with aisle seats. Michael played games or watched movies on his tablet and kept quiet, mostly.

The lights dimmed, and the overhead speakers announced in several languages that they were approaching the first gate. Rosemary’s grip tightened on the armrests.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Michael said with a smile. “There’s less nausea on large craft teleportation. If you do get barfy, peppermint or ginger helps.”

“Where did you hear that?”

He pointed to the safety pamphlet in the pocket of the seat in front of him.

The lights flickered, and Rosemary felt a terrible tug on her stomach. She grabbed Michael’s hand and squeezed tight. The sensation of being disassembled on the molecular level wasn’t the worst thing she ever experienced, but it wasn’t awesome either. It felt a bit like eating too much and needing to burp to relieve the pressure.

“Mom? You can let go now. Do you want a mint?” The slot in the seatback dispensed a small red and white mint.

As the candy dissolved, she felt better. “How did you get so good at this?”

Michael shrugged, turning back to his game as space travel and teleportation proved a complete bore.

 

***

 

Ten hours later, Rosemary found herself on an alien planet. From her vantage point on the concourse, the spaceport was similar enough to the average airport that she understood the basics, like picking up luggage, but different enough that she felt disoriented. The translucent walls glowed softly with light. Designed to move people, the space was efficient but not sparse. The tight weave of the carpet covering the floor reminded her of the jute rug in her dining room. Rows of uncomfortable plastic seats crowded the area surrounding the boarding gate.

Vendors offered services that had no human equivalent, like horn polishing. They passed a stand of very pretty ornaments and delicate chains to decorate horns. The most amazing aromas wafted from the food stalls. Her stomach rumbled. Tiredness and hunger made everything smell so darn appetizing, but when she got a good look at the strange cuts of meat and unknown vegetable, she resisted. She couldn’t risk getting sick from eating something weird.

The pretzels nearly broke her. Well, she assumed they were pretzels. It smells like bread, twisted into complex shapes and covered with what looked like salt. Bread, butter, and salt—all her favorite things.

All in all, it was just a regular airport. Nothing special except everyone was just so… purple.

Aliens rushed about the spaceport, completely ignoring the Earth woman and her child. Their complexions ranged from very pale lilac to lavender to plum, and even a deep, dark aubergine. Every single one of them had horns. The men had horns that curled back dramatically from their brows. The women’s horns seemed smaller and delicate.

Rosemary couldn't help herself staring. Aliens. Everyone here was an alien.

A horrible truth settled on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She was the alien now.

“Mom, you’re crushing my hand,” Michael complained, wiggling his hand free.

“Stay close,” Rosemary said. They collected their luggage and waited. The passengers from the shuttle disappeared into the crowd. She searched for a familiar face. Hazel’s itinerary said someone would meet them, but she had no idea whom to expect or how to spot them.

“Rosemary Rovelli?”

A tall, muscular man with horns that swept back proudly from his forehead, with a complexion the color of wine, smiled at her. White fangs gleamed against his skin. Suddenly, she understood what it was like to be frozen in the sights of a predator. She understood the difference between the ordinary people of Sangrin and the Mahdfel; it was the difference between a housecat and a tiger.

Rosemary pulled Michael against her front, folding her arms protectively over her son’s shoulders.

The Mahdfel man stood a good head taller than anyone else in the crowd. His build was athletic and made for power. The drab gray military uniform hid a toned, sculpted physique. All the public service information—propaganda—came back to her. The Mahdfel looked like their mothers, but they had been genetically modified to be superior soldiers. They healed at an accelerated rate. Their senses were heightened. They possessed amazing strength and endurance. They could survive harsh environments with little food or water. They could only have sons, which compelled them to make treaties with other planets.

They would fight to defend their mates with the last breath in their bodies.

And they were handsome, according to gossip. More handsome than they had a right to be. This Mahdfel male was no exception. Rosemary had heard the giggled whispers about special equipment and how the women forced to marry them were too busy being screwed out of their minds to complain about having their choice and freedom taken away.

Beyond all that super soldier and sex appeal was the raw sense of danger that rolled off him. This alien male was a weapon. No amount of open and friendly smiles would change that fact.

The male leaned forward ever so slightly, and his nostrils flared, as if taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes as if savoring a tasty treat and smiled. Again, Rosemary did not like being on the receiving end of that smile. It made her feel as if she were the tasty treat.

“Rosemary?” he asked again.

“And if I am?”

“Hazel sent me,” he said. “I’m Lorran Rhew, her brother-by-marriage.” He dropped to one knee and gave Michael a nod. “My mission is to deliver you safely to your aunt. Do I have your authorization?”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. She did not appreciate being spoken about like she wasn’t there. “Michael does not make decisions for me. I do,” she stated coolly. She was the parent here, not the other way around. “And why couldn’t Hazel be here? I expected my sister.” Not a stranger, she nearly added but held her tongue. She would be a guest in that stranger’s home for the next two weeks. Playing nice was the prudent thing to do.

“She couldn’t make it,” he said brightly, the hostility in her voice unnoticed. “Come. It is not far, but you have had a long journey already.” He picked up the two heavy suitcases as if they weighed nothing.

“How strong are you?” Michael asked.

Lorran shrugged. “I never tested myself.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Easily.”

“Can you pick my mom up?”

Lorran glanced at Rosemary and licked his bottom lip. “Yes.” He winked.

Ugh. So gross. Did that ever work? Any interest she might have had completely vanished with that flirty wink.

“What about him? Can you pick him up?” Michael pointed to a portly figure in the crowd.

Rosemary pushed his hand down. “Don’t point. It’s rude.”

Michael continued to pepper Lorran with questions in the vehicle. Exhausted, Rosemary leaned her head against the window, and only half-listened. A new planet’s landscape rolled by and her eyes were too dry and red to appreciate it. Michael, however, found his second wind and vibrated with excitement. What did that sign say? Was this a big city? Was Lorran a soldier? How high could he jump? How long could he hold his breath? Could he see in the dark? Did he have a knife? Could Michael hold it?

“That’s enough,” Rosemary said, squashing any more questions. “I’m sure Mr. Rhew is too busy—”

“Call me Lorran,” he said, smiling again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, not in the mood to get chummy or on a first-name basis.

He winked.

Rosemary frowned.

Unaffected, he smiled. On another day, such relentless cheer and optimism might soften her up, but she was not in the mood today. She turned back to the window and watched the scenery glide by.

They had left the city and were deep into the hilly countryside. Fields rolled by, buried under a blanket of white snow. Trees, branches dark against the afternoon sky, held a scant few bright scarlet leaves. Mountains, blue and misty, crouched on the horizon and the red sun hovered just above the highest peaks. Occasionally a house with steep A-frame roof rolled by.

Everything was familiar yet different. Small details stood out, like the lettering on signs or the vague purplish tint to the vegetation. Even the light was different, cast by the dull red sun in the winter sky. She held up her hand to the window, marveling that her normally olive complexion looked very pale and pink. Everything was different here, even her.

The vehicle turned off the major road to a smaller lane. Tidy rows of grape-looking fruit replaced the fields of grain. They took another turn onto a long drive then passed more vines and a cluster of buildings. An A-frame building sat at the end of the drive. A porch laden with lanterns wrapped around the structure, giving it an inviting air. The vehicle stopped, and a computerized voice chirped about safely disembarking the craft.

Bags at her feet, a cold wind carried a hint of moisture, possibly snow, but the sky seemed too bright for a snowstorm. That was, if Sangrin weather systems behaved like the weather patterns on Earth. It was definitely winter. She rubbed her hands together, wishing that she had thought to dig out her scarf and gloves before leaving the warmth of the vehicle. Michael had already retrieved his soccer ball from his backpack.

“Gloves, buddy,” she said. He groaned but complied, putting on gloves, a scarf, and his wool hat.

“Daughter!” A woman rushed out of the house, arms extended for a non-negotiable hug, stark white hair barely contained in a bun. She wore an ivory robe with a wide scarlet belt. Embroidered scarlet leaves decorated the sleeves. Horns, gray with age curved delicately from her brow. Rosemary couldn’t ignore the horns.

“Oh, okay,” Rosemary said as the woman embraced her with enthusiasm. Though shorter than her, the woman squeezed with surprising strength. A horn butted against Rosemary’s jaw.

“Another daughter. Has any female been so lucky? And you have such a strong son, too.” The woman fussed over Michael, ruffling his hair and proclaiming him a robust, young warrior. Michael tolerated her attention with a grimace.

“I’m Rosemary, by the way.” She stuck out a hand for a shake.

“Tani Rhew,” the woman said and enveloped Rosemary into another hug, this one somehow more intense. “I am Hazel’s mother-by-mating.”

This short, warm woman was Hazel’s mother-in-law? Despite the surface differences, Tani seemed so normal, just a kind-hearted person who invited a stranger into her home for the holidays.

“Rosemary!” Hazel ran up to Rosemary. The cream-colored robe she wore complimented Tani’s outfit and highlighted the swell of her belly. Rosemary felt the firm bump as Hazel threw her arms around her sister. “Oh my God, I missed you so much! I can’t believe you’re here! I have so much to tell you. Can you believe how big I am? It’s only six weeks. I’m going to be huge.” Hazel’s words came tumbling out.

“How many weeks?” She didn’t start to show with her pregnancy until well into her third month.

“Six!” She posed with hands on hips, displaying her stomach. The swell wasn’t dramatic, but it was undeniable. “Apparently Mahdfel grow faster than a human baby.”

“You look amazing.” Rosemary didn’t bother with false compliments. It was the truth. Hazel had that pregnancy glow about her. “I never knew you were the mommy type.”

“I wasn’t, but with Seeran—” A serene smile spread across her face. “Where’s my favorite nephew?” Hazel gave Michael an enthusiastic hug.

“I’m your only nephew, Aunt Hazel.”

“And despite your sass, still my favorite.” She gave the squirming seven-year-old another hug.

“You must be tired,” Tani said. “You look tired.”

“Thanks.” Rosemary raised her eyebrow and looked at Hazel, who giggled. Hazel. Giggling, like a teenager. Serious-business-Hazel giggled.

What did these aliens do to her sister?

“Where is this husband of yours?” Rosemary asked. She had to get a gander at the alien who seduced her sister away from Earth.

Tani answered. “Seeran and my other son, Mene, are hanging lanterns. They will be gone until the evening.”

Lanterns. Right.

“I’ll show Rosemary and Michael to their rooms. The Rhews have a really amazing house,” Hazel said, linking her arm with Rosemary’s.

“You need to rest,” Tani said. “Lorran will help my daughter get settled.”

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” Hazel said.

“This is your first pregnancy. We cannot be too careful.”

Hazel shrugged as if acquiescing to a fight she knew would not win. “My room is on the first floor. Apparently, stairs are too dangerous.”

“And if you stumbled and fell? What then? Listen to your mother. I know best,” Tani said. She moved to the house, head high.

“Listen to your smother,” Rosemary whispered to Hazel, eliciting another giggle.

Lorran grabbed the bags and motioned to Michael. “Young warrior, let us prepare the camp.”

“But I’m not tired. I don’t need a nap.”

Rosemary recognized her son’s need-a-nap voice. “Lay down for an hour. Sleep. Don’t sleep. I don’t care,” she said, knowing he’d be asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, like every other night.

“Can I play my game?”

“No, but you can count sheep.”

“That’s a baby’s game.”

“No devices.”

“But you said you didn’t care if I sleep.”

Rosemary gave the interior of the home a quick glance before Michael absorbed all her attention. His protests continued up the stairs, into the room prepared for him, while he brushed his teeth, and as she changed him into pajamas. Finally, finally, he lay down in the bed and slept.

She loved her son, but he could be a fussy brat sometimes.

Her luggage waited in a comfortably appointed bedroom. The walls were covered with a grassy material, woven into a chevron pattern. A plush rug covered the hardwood floors. A wardrobe and desk stood at one end of the room. A massive platform bed occupied the other end, lush with fluffy comforters and pillows, and promised heaven.

Rosemary touched the control on the window and the screens lifted, offering a tranquil view of the vineyard grounds.

“Do you need assistance unpacking?”

She shook her head. Unpacking could wait, wrinkles be damned.

“And the bed is to your liking?” Lorran sat on the edge and patted it, clearly in a move he thought would be inviting. Just like with the wink, he miscalculated. It was the furthest thing from inviting.

“I’m sure it’s fine. I just need to sleep.” She stood at the door, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

Smiling, he stood with a slow stretch designed to show off his lean, athletic body. “Sleeping in a new bed can be disconcerting. Perhaps you’d benefit from having a warrior at your side.”

What was this nonsense? Rosemary crossed her arms and gave him her sternest mom-glare.

With a chuckle, he ambled out the door, brushing against her. Outside the door, he planted a hand on either side of the frame and leaned in. “Just to be clear, I wasn’t talking about sleep.”

Yeah, she picked up on his subtle hints. Rosemary just couldn’t find it in herself to be offended. That could have been the exhaustion talking or the ridiculous expression on Lorran’s face. She just couldn’t take him seriously. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Do you want to find out if what they say about Mahdfel males is true?” Lorran grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Because it’s all true.”

Rosemary’s stern expression dissolved into laughter, and she shut the door in his face.