Grady's Awakening (41 page)

“Oh, I will. Have no doubt.”

Once he was satisfied nobody was following or could see them, Grady made for the big fissure between two cliffs Mike had described. There was the faint outline of an old dirt road that had once snaked around one cliff face, only to disappear into the fissure. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t see it, which was ingenious. No doubt, the natural look of the road, and its state of disrepair, kept its secret safe.

Grady maneuvered the craft into the wide, natural opening that narrowed as it twisted into the very rock, forming a natural tunnel. A fissure, really, that narrowed as it rose, permitting only the barest amount of light to penetrate to the path below. Rounding several curves, Grady saw what looked like a dead end.

Even as he watched, the rock parted and a giant door opened. The bay was lit dimly from within—a long, huge entryway that ended in a massive steel door on the other end. This then was the airlock, so to speak. The preliminary entryway that safeguarded the facility. He pulled the craft to a stop within the long, wide tunnel and waited for the massive rock-fronted doors to close.

Once they did, lights came up to full strength. Grady and Jim waved from within the cockpit as they saw a camera drone zip over to check them out. It examined the vehicle from all angles before zipping back to its storage area along one of the walls somewhere. Only then did the inner doors begin to cycle open.

Grady brought the craft to a rest next to a large group of aircraft. Some were fighter jets, some propeller craft. All were old and looked like they hadn’t been used in decades, which was probably an accurate guess. Farther in, he could just make out some long, cylindrical objects he guessed were missiles of some sort. The humans had a lot of firepower in this mountain. More than he’d guessed was left.

“Holy shit,” Jim breathed as he saw the armament and aircraft.

“I guess there is no doubt this was once a military installation.”

Grady popped the hatch, and the men piled out. Grady had a pack with him—personal supplies he’d left behind on his previous departure from the craft. He’d take it with him this time, for he knew he might never see this craft again. With an odd pang, he realized he didn’t really care. His future was with Gina now—however it worked out. He had to have faith in the spirits of his ancestors that somehow it would.

They met Mike on the floor of the massive hangar.

“Some stash you’ve got here,” Jim commented as he looked around at the assembled craft.

“Yeah, we found this a couple of weeks ago, but we don’t have anyone who can fly them.”

Jim’s gaze zeroed in on Mike, flashing excitement in his eyes. “I do.”

“Really?”

“We kept a lot of our staff since the base was operating at the time of the cataclysm. We sent out fighters, but we didn’t have this many. We lost a lot until we finally realized the better part of valor in this case was hunkering down and hiding. We have pilots and their families. A lot of the guys have taught their kids what they knew. The kids have never been up for real, but we’ve got a top-rated flight simulator and it’s one of the things the younger generation enjoys doing for fun. As a result, we have more pilots than planes.”

“That’s mighty interesting.” Mike’s casual words belied his eager expression.

They took their leave of Jaci, Mike and the rest later that day. At first, they suggested Jim’s pod go first, but after some good-natured ribbing about not being able to keep their eyes on the road being newlyweds and all, Dave, Bill and Sam went first. Sam was a new addition to the group, but a welcome one. Grady valued the man’s insight and was pleased to learn he was a close friend of Bill’s.

Bill needed friends—human friends—if he was going to continue to thrive on his own, without a mate. Grady didn’t know how he did it, but he admired the man’s strength of character and will. Grady suspected he wouldn’t be half as stoic if he’d had to face life without a Resonance Mate by his side.

But perhaps Bill lived on hope. Grady wasn’t sure. Bill was naturally secretive, having been the top
Zxerah
assassin most of his life. He’d also had emotions longer than any other Alvian. He was better at dealing with them. They were more integrated into his personality.

The trip back was uneventful. Every time they stopped at a station, both groups would get out of their pods and walk around a bit, exploring. Dave and Sam even scouted up some of the ventilation shafts to see what they could learn of the topside terrain.

Not needed to watch the track ahead, Jim, Grady and Gina spent most of the time making love. He and Jim had come to an understanding and even began to develop a sort of unspoken communication like he’d once had with the soldiers who served with him. They were able to anticipate what the other wanted when it came to pleasuring Gina.

She shocked them a few times as well. Such as when she climbed over Grady’s lap with no preliminaries and started fucking him where he sat. In fact, that entire encounter had been surprising in the extreme. Especially when Jim moved behind her and began to penetrate her ass.

Grady had never shared a woman in such a way before. He could feel the other man’s movements through the thin membranes of Gina’s luscious body. It was an odd sensation. One that drove his own passion higher.

“You weren’t kidding about how hot he gets,” Jim whispered in Gina’s ear, but it was loud enough that Grady heard him. He met Jim’s gaze over her shoulder, not quite sure what the amusement in his expression meant. But he was too far gone to wonder more. Gina moved on them both, causing a violent rush of passion that resulted in a hard, fast climax that sent him reeling.

Gina sat in his lap, draped over him like a living blanket in the aftermath. Jim moved off to claim a chair for himself, breathing hard after his own climax.

“I never did that before,” she whispered.

“Me neither.” Grady stroked her back with long, sweeping touches.

“I have,” Jim announced from beside them. Grady looked over to see a grin lighting his satisfied face. “And I’ll gladly do it again and again, judging by your response, Gina. I’d say you liked it.”

“Liked it?” She rolled her head against Grady’s chest so she could look at Jim. “I loved it! As much as I love both of you.”

Epilogue

When they arrived in Colorado a crowd gathered to meet the newcomers. Word spread like wildfire through the facility—especially about the aliens in their midst. Some were angry, some curious, others frightened, but everything changed when Bill’s tawny wings made an appearance.

Of all those gathered, it was a child who saw them first. A youngster who broke the ice.

“Mama, is he an angel?” a child’s loud whisper sounded, silencing everyone, and Gina saw a little girl pointing at Bill and tugging on her mother’s hand.

“I’m no angel.” Bill knelt on the ground before the child, his wings spread out and exposed for all to see.

A man stepped forward from the group. “Are you Alvian?” A collective murmur went up from the assembled people.

“No longer. If ever I was. I am an Alvian-Avarel hybrid, bred as an experiment, then experimented on even further. Unlike most other Alvians, I have feelings and for that I’m being hunted.”

“What’s an Avarel?” One of the crowd wanted to know.

“They were a race of advanced explorers that visited our worlds many generations ago. I can only surmise our leaders preserved some of their DNA without their knowledge, and I’m the result. The Avarel, it is said, had wings much larger than mine in a myriad of colorations. They were depicted in ancient artwork as having skin patterns that matched the color of their wings in a rainbow of hues. Few visited our worlds, but they were welcomed. It was from observing them that our leaders first realized our ways were too aggressive. We were killing ourselves in large numbers and the geneticists stepped in to solve the problem. They began changing us on a genetic level.”

Tory came forward to stand in front of him. “He’s the one I saw would come. The angel. He’s not Alvian. Not anymore.”

“I’ve seen him before. He’s the one they call Wild Bill. He lives high up in the mountains, but nobody knows exactly where,” one of the more recent additions to their community said.

“People of many talents will gather around a blond giant named for Hickok, who is an angel in disguise. A former enemy, he’ll become the father of the resistance. Tell those who manage to escape to seek him out in the high places.”
Pierre recited the strange words. “That’s from the Oracle’s book of prophecies.”

“Well I’ll be.” Larry moved a little closer. “Wild Bill Hickok… An angel in disguise. I think we have ourselves a winner.”

“Sure looks that way,” Pierre agreed. “Never thought I’d meet an angel.”

 
“I’m no angel,” Bill was careful to point out again. “I’m an Alvian-Avarel hybrid, with all the faults of both races.”

“You’re also the man of whom the Oracle wrote,” Pierre said quietly, with finality.

Ronin Prime oversaw the prisoner transfer with something like satisfaction, though of course he couldn’t actually feel it. He’d change that—as soon as he could—if he had his way. The wheels had been set in motion. He just had to be patient to see his long-term plans come to fruition.

The prisoner was an older human male with an almost regal bearing despite his years of confinement. Ronin Prime watched the squadron of soldiers leave him with his
Zxerah
clansmen, waiting to be sure the other Alvians were gone before he approached.

When he drew near, his
Zxerah
brethren parted ranks, leaving him face to face with the human man. The man stood proud, sizing Ronin up with cool blue eyes as any good competitor would. Ronin respected that.

“Remove his restraints,” he ordered his brethren quietly, unsurprised when the human’s eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. This man—a former general—was a cool customer indeed.

 
The shackles were removed one by one, leaving the human standing tall and proud before Ronin, flanked by four soldiers of the
Zxerah
brethren. Ronin had taken the precaution of having this transfer take place on a military installation away from the
Zxerah
stronghold, but he’d handpicked the men who would initially deal with this prisoner who could prove to be very important.

“You are General Yeager.” Ronin didn’t ask. He knew full well to whom he was speaking, but he wanted the general to understand that Ronin not only knew but also respected his rank and stature.

The man nodded once.

“I have heard good things about you from your people in Colorado. Before you ask—” Ronin held up one hand to forestall any outbursts, but this general was an even cooler customer than he’d credited. “All is well in Colorado. Your people thrive in their home and have not been disturbed. They have, however, been contacted by one of my operatives, and we are in communication on a somewhat regular basis now. It is because of this, I’ve had you transferred to my care. The men you left behind in Colorado have never forgotten you. I respect that and because of it, I believe we can be of help to each other and to our respective races.”

The general eyed him suspiciously. “I’m willing to listen.”

“Excellent.” Ronin stepped toward the waiting craft. “Come with us then, and we will talk on the way. I have much to tell you, and we have much to discuss.”

A week later, the door to an apartment in the Northern City slid open and a young man stood on the threshold. A tentative smile touched his lips.

“I knew you would come.” The young man stepped aside, allowing Ronin to enter. He did so with uncharacteristic hesitance, turning to face the young man in the entryway as the door slid closed.

“I am Ronin.”

“I know.”

“And you must be Harry.”

At that, the young man’s smile returned. “Your kind generally calls me Hara, but I prefer Harry.”

Ronin took his measure. “I am not precisely like other Alvians, though I suppose I still share more in common with them than with others.”

“You question things, which is good, and you see possibilities for the future. That’s more than most, Patriarch.”

One brow rose in question at Harry’s casual use of Ronin’s title. “Do you know of what you speak or it is merely premonition that prompts you to use such a word?”

“There is nothing
mere
about any of my premonitions.” Harry’s tone turned challenging. “But to answer your question, it is a mixture of both research and foresight. I foresaw your visit here a long time ago. After that initial vision, I conducted research in Alvian databases and histories so I would know with whom I’d be dealing in the future. I learned much about your Brotherhood, but little about you as a person, Ronin Prime.”

“Then we are equally in search of knowledge.” Ronin moved further into the apartment and took a seat on the couch. “I know of your ancestry but have found precious little information about you, yourself. I have come here to begin the journey of knowledge, to see if we can work together to create a better future for our people.”

“Which people?” Harry challenged as he sat in a chair, opposite. With a casual thought, he moved an illicit device from the other side of the room onto the low table between the couch and his chair. The show of telekinesis was no doubt deliberate—a flexing of mental muscles designed to showcase one of his many talents that made him so different from his Alvian brethren. Another thought flipped the device on. “We are now shielded against monitoring of any kind.”