Lincoln City, Oregon.
There were rules…
No swimming in saltwater.
Never play hide and seek.
Never ask about the scar at the back of her neck.
Her first memory was the injury, and that pain never entirely disappeared. Nor the nightmares. Galene would dream of a monster who lived within, reaching out and splitting her spine. Killing everything she cared about. Her friends and her beloved parents.
Some nights, her nightmares involved her father gutting her like a fish. But, Owen would never hurt his daughter.
Shuddering, she stared at the injured red octopus squirming in her hands.
Her father observed as she carried it to a deep tidal pool, hopping nimbly over coraled rocks. The red octopus had a sharp beak and may be inclined to bite and then spit venom on the wound. Humans shouldn't carry octopi, but Galene seemed to be the exception. Sometimes, the marine life knew she was a rescuer. Other times, she felt their terror. This little fella needed help with two missing tentacles. She'd found him in the sand, discarded by a fisherman who'd probably wanted to use the creature as bait.
Locals took marine conservation seriously on the Oregan coast. A few arrogant tourists were the problem.
Crouching, Galene gently lowered the octopus into a deep tide pool, closer to the waved. Low tide meant that Galene could place it far from the beach and hoped that it would survive its long recovery. The minute it tasted freedom, the animal drifted beneath a rocky shelf. A white blonde tendril stole across her face, and Galene tucked her bothersome hair behind her ear. Although she wore it up in a ponytail, her thick, wavy hair always found a way to escape. She hated her hair which was the one thing she couldn't control. And it kept getting lighter even though she hadn't spent much time in the sun at college. Her blonde locks were turning silver, making her uncomfortable. Her classmates kept asking what toner she used. Galene had never dyed or bleached her hair. Maybe she should try to darken it. Flashes of color had Galene glancing at a fish—a sculpin—skating across the bottom of the pool.
Guilt stirred, pushing her aside her sorrow. Guilt and something more… hunger. She wanted to taste the sculpin's silvery flesh.
Galene had secrets. When she was a kid, she'd once snuck away in the night and run to the beach but hadn't ventured near the water, her parents' lectures ringing in her ears.
No swimming in saltwater.
Never play hide and seek.
Never talk about the scar at the back of your neck.
But Galene had sat on the sand, resisting the ocean's pull. And then she'd reached out and snatched up a crab. A reflex she couldn't control. She'd eaten it raw, and tears had fallen when she realized what she'd done. Her parents were all about saving wildlife and sea life and shed ripped apart an animal with her bare hands. And it had tasted like heaven.
The memory was a cold discomfort that chilled her bones.
Galene shivered and retracted her hand from the tempting pool. Feeling her nails bite into skin, she studied the darkening horizon. She made her way back to the sand as her father sifted through the washed-up trash and dumped the sea pollutants into a bag.
Why did a night swim appeal so strongly? Shadowed waters called to her traitorous soul, and she forced one foot in front of another, retreating to safety. Could she even swim? Vague memories surfaced. Galene hadn't done all that well when she'd almost drowned and flopped around in the waves at nine years old. She'd been only nine at the time. At least that was her estimated age. She was probably seven years old when she'd been found by her two saviors—her adoptive parents. Now, at twenty-one, she knew them as a family—loving family. After sitting on the beach, she drew a circle in the sand, wondering about her life before the typhoon. Galene's birth family had never been found.
'Are you having trouble in college?" Her father lowered himself beside her and nudged her shoulder.
"No, daddy. School is fine."
"It had better be—it's a damn art degree. How will you apply that to finding a job?"
"Are you giving me a hard time about my second choice? Galene shot him a glare. "I can still be a marine biologist—just like you."
Her father stiffened.
"Or maybe I should be a doctor or an engineer. How about a lawyer?" She grinned, knowing her brilliant grades could get her into any field. She was considered gifted at school. Even Harvard and Oxford had head-hunted Galene before she'd graduated from high school.
But, she'd followed in her mother's footsteps and stuck with her passion—swirling paint on a canvas. Traditional art was dying in a digital world. And yet, she hadn't resisted the pull to create magical worlds through her art.
"You're now just like your mother. Come, my artsy, fartsy daughter, let's get home and make dinner. Galene picked up her father's trash bag half-filled with soda cans, broken glass, and plastic. She took in the ocean one last time, saddened that humans polluted their fragile world.
Threading her fingers with the professor, she tugged at his hand. What are you going to cook for your visiting child?"
"You're doing the cooking, dear heart."
"You're putting me to work?" Galene laughed as they ascended the wooden stairs to their beach-side home.
If she'd remembered her past, she would've sensed the movement in the dark shallows. The man's entire body glistened in the water. Muscles rippled below dark blue skin as he swam towards the rocks. He eased himself out of the shallows without a sound and waited. His lower body slowly lightened, and he pulled in a breath, tasting the air. He could smell the humans on the beach. A primate walking her dog. The distant shouts of Homo Sapien offspring.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on tracking a scent, finally using a knee to raise himself onto a rock. His skin changed colors and became a mottled brown, but he took no notice. Invisible to humans, he took in another lungful of air. There it was… that subtle scent. Was it a vibrio? He tensed.
It couldn't be a fisheri—his pod was all accounted for. With one exception, but she was long gone.
He'd ventured too far, and the scouting party would raise the alarm if he didn't rejoin them. Inwardly cursing, he pushed back off the rock and dropped into the water. He might look like a sleek seal—all shiny and smooth if he were spotted. A seal the size of a large man. There was always a risk—watching the shoreline. With a powerful thrash of his tail, Darghelm descended silently, passing a white shark as he headed west towards his kin.
Los Angeles, CaliforniaThe descent to earth was a smooth ride, considering they’d felt a little warm upon entry at 100 km. But the ship was built for gravity and drag and could resist higher temperatures more extreme than the earth’s atmosphere. Cleona guided them safely to Franklin Canyon Park. The famous Los Angeles discovery trail lay deserted at three in the morning. But, no one would spot the spacecraft. It was invisible to the naked eye and hovered above the trees.Stralath rappelled to the ground and waited for his teammate—Cleona—to join him. Once they’d packed away their gear, he stood and took in her human form and nodded with approval.He’d been to earth a few times. This was Cleona’s first mission to the flourishing planet, and she looked acceptable. A short human stature, though. Her brown hair wa
Galene traced a fanned paintbrush as her mother worried over a set of expensive oil paints in the same aisle. A Saturday meant a bustling hobby shop, and they both looked a mess, dressed in color splattered dungarees. Galene even had paint in her hair and had pulled it up into a messy bun."I should've ordered online at our wholesaler." Her mother picked up a tube—the same violet color as her name. "Oils isn't your normal medium—you prefer acrylic paints. Why the sudden switch?" Galene twirled in the aisle and ran a hand along a white canvas. "Besides, I like your current work.""My current commission." Her mom grumbled. "I hate painting for other people.""You're getting paid a lot of money.""Which is why I'll take a break and play with a different medium." Bending, she grabbed a bottle of turpentine. "It's not like I need the cash."Her mom was correct—Violet was an established artist with international exhibits under her messy apr
Los AngelesThere was little time to rest. Traveling beyond the speed of light led to severe exhaustion—craft lag—and Stralath rallied his energy as they walked up the stairs to the large white mansion. A mix of security personnel and partygoers milled around the front lawns, and Stralath ignored them all, intent on meeting the most powerful person on earth. As expected, a bodyguard stopped him from entering the massive double doors. Cleona waited while he flashed a business card, and the muscled human stepped back, allowing them entry. Heading through the lobby, Stralath knew where to go as he'd been here before. They entered the vast drawing-room and slowed. A bar took up the far end, and a central fountain surrounded by sofas and chairs created a welcoming space. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the gardens surrounding a small lake. Celebrities took up space and gathered in groups around the massive water feature. A wide staircase beside the
"You're chasing dangerous targets." Coco locked the door behind them and gestured towards the leather sofa.Ignoring their host, Cleona prowled around the large office, examining Coco's picture frames in a glass cabinet. "What's NASA?" She pointed at a group of astronauts."An organization I worked with for many years.""Miss. Domingo is originally an astrophysicist—a human who studies the universe and its contents." The couch felt comfortable, and Stralath stretched out his legs, ignoring the temptation to take a nap.Cleona huffed out a laugh. "With the archaic technology that humans use? Can they see beyond their solar system?" "Don't be rude." He shot the female warrior a glare. "She's right. If the NIRL hadn't reached out to primitive humans like me, we'd still be wondering about life on other planets." Coco took a seat behind her desk and reached for a folder. Coco ran earth's NIRL sector in veiled secrecy—with limited elected
Darghelm led his scouting pod over a sea ridge and into darker depths. They were many miles away from land, and exhaustion ate away at his vigilance. They'd been away from home for two weeks, and he missed the familiar terrain surrounding the Fisheri fortress. He'd gathered enough intel for concern, and their leader would not be pleased with the report. Darghelm's caudal spine throbbed in time with his strokes, and he glanced back at his long tail. A few days of rest should help his strained muscles. His skin was a hybrid of fish scales, sensory cells, and collagen fibers. A combination not ever seen on earth. Plenty of sea creatures on the planet had mastered the art of camouflage, like the cuttlefish. The fisheri species had evolved way beyond any of earth's imaginings. Thanks to their advanced evolution, his alien species had hidden for centuries in the deep oceans. Darghelm watched his tail darken as they drifted deeper. His concealment abilities were so innate and s
Stralath hummed a human song as the elevator slid below ground, and Cleona shot him a strange look which he ignored. He liked earthling music which showed creativity and spirit. He'd stayed up late scrolling the internet and uploaded an extensive playlist to the "insight device" attached to his skull. Coco cleared her throat, and he reluctantly tapped the disc behind his ear, shutting off the rhythmic sound waves rolling through his mind. "The fisheri won't talk, and we've tried everything short of torture." Coco rocked back on her heels. The doors opened, and they stepped into a concrete tunnel. Soft lighting led the way, and when the two women paused at the entrance to the observation room, Stralath gave them a warning."No cameras. Turn off the recording equipment until I give you the green light." Coco glanced at the small gym bag that he carried. "Are you going to hurt him?"Stralath shook his head. "Not unless he attacks first. Did he give a n
Galene loved the off-campus studio. She was back in California at the UCLA School of Arts and preparing for her first official exhibition. Three years of hard work led to a taste of gallery life, and she refused to disappoint herself or her professors. She had her last year of college ahead and needed to focus on direction and narrative within her art. Crossing the quiet street, she glanced at the old industrial warehouse and smiled. Ten of her fellow students shared this massive space with multi-level studios. Yes, the old building seemed unaccommodating to the average person, but it felt eclectic and welcoming to art students. Old sofas and messy studios sat next to a make-shift pottery space. They also had a lithographic and printing room, a sculpture space filled with stone, wood, metals, and a workshop and welding area. The sounds of artists working always motivated Galene to try harder to translate her passion onto canvas. Pulling out her security pass, she swiped
Stralath watched the entrance to the warehouse, hoping his intel was correct. The new SUV was a luxurious brand, and he appreciated the warm leather smell as he reached for the box sitting on the center console and snapped it open. The Hublot watch cost twenty grand and matched his outfit and car. The NIRL had provided a generous budget for the mission, and Stralath wasn't complaining. "Why don't we just rely on Bobby's father—what's his name—to relay a message to the fisheri? That's way easier." Drusdor asked from behind. "There's little trust between the pods, and the fisheri will think it's a trap. I'll need to speak to Vigtor Norvegius myself. At least we now have a name." Strapping on the watch, he glanced at Cleona and scowled. "I can't believe you actually shaved your head." "I hate human hair." She ran a hand over her cropped cut. "I feel free. Such annoying shit. And apparently, I had to wash it with fancy bottled soap just for hair. No thanks.