Chapter 1: Chapter 1: The Runaway Syren

SARENIA

The echo of Larika’s telepathic cry snapped her from her regenerative hibernation, and waking brought no light and the unpleasant smells she’d blocked out as she slept: the familiar odor of dried beer and the miasma of rotting fast food. With thick curtains draped over the only window in Ryan’s efficiency apartment and the one bare bulb in the ceiling extinguished, its single room remained as dark as a closed suspension capsule. The similarity inspired an unease which Sarenia had long disliked but accepted as necessary.

Excess electricity was an expense her current human partner could not afford and one which Sarenia did not need when Ryan was not present. The darkness also mercifully hid the apartment’s sorry state: piles of discarded fast food wrappings, scattered bottles of cheap beer, and once white paint gone to gray. The discolored and threadbare carpet, light beige now turned to muddy brown, actively oozed the smell of the cigarettes Ryan craved.

As Sarenia sat straight up on the worn and narrow mattress, the thin, scratchy sheet coursed down her body and jolted every nerve with almost painful intensity. Her current hyper-sensitivity was another sign of how starved of energy she remained, and while hyper-sensitivity could be pleasant during coupling, she did not need the distraction. If the echo from her twin sister had not been a dream, she was in danger.

No more sendings followed Larika’s sudden, alarmed telepathic cry. Sarenia struggled to convince herself she had imagined the telepathic echo that burst inside her mind. An energy-starved mind could play such tricks, and Ryan had been missing for a full week. While such absences were not unusual, a full week without him had left her feeling... drained.

She had to be certain that she had indeed heard her twin cry out in alarm. If she mistook a restless dream for the truth, it would mean fleeing her hard-earned safety for no good purpose. She sharpened her senses.

The next jolt of telepathic contact erupted so violently in Sarenia’s head that it left stars dancing before her eyes, embers fading in the darkness. It was a sending from Larika, and the meaning it contained was clear. “They’ve captured me. They’re in my mind. Run.”

Sarenia lost all sense of her twin sister in the aftermath of the echo. It was as if Larika’s distant but comforting presence had already been stuffed inside a pod and sealed behind its closed lid. Their faint psychic link had just been severed, which could only mean one thing.

A pod of Tharon bounty hunters had captured Larika, and they would be coming for Sarenia next.

Tharons could trace mental links between telepathic subjects and those with whom they were connected, which meant the hunters who’d just captured Larika knew Sarenia’s current location. She wanted so badly to go immediately to Larika’s aid, to free her sister before the Tharons took her off-planet, but at the moment... she was too weak.

If she were to try to rescue her sister now, she would be captured as well. All she could do was flee at Larika’s warning, regain her strength, and rescue her sister before the next junction opened at the end of the month. She simply needed a competent partner to restore her now dangerously low reserves of energy.

Sarenia’s muddled mind, still disoriented from this unexpected and traumatic disruption in her regenerative cycle, scrambled for foolish hope. Had Ryan perhaps returned as she hibernated in an effort to conserve her remaining energy? It was odd that he would return without rousing and then fucking her, but perhaps he had been too drunk for sex.

While the apartment remained almost entire dark, another moment’s concentration and a bit of what transformative energy remained reconfigured her human eyes to see perfectly in the dark. The sight of blanket-covered lump on the yellowed couch raised her hopes. Ryan was home! But... passed out again?

Sarenia stood in the darkness. She’d taken three tentative strides toward the couch, ignoring the distracting sensation of dirty carpet fibers tickling her bare feet, before she remembered that lump was not Ryan. It was the same pile of unwashed pillows and clothing that had remained on the couch since Ryan left five days ago.

As much as she continued to hold out hope for his return, she now accepted that her mental faculties had dulled worse than she had feared. Ryan would not be back for her, or at least... he would not return in time to help her evade her Tharon hunters.

This was not the first time Ryan had gone missing since Sarenia partnered with him, and while she had stayed this long in hopes of saving him from his many addictions, she now had to accept that might not be possible. Even had she the energy to travel to and explore the myriad areas Ryan frequented for his vices, she lacked the energy to defend herself if she were attacked. Were she to go after him, she would certainly be attacked.

Her current form was shorter than she preferred, with a thin waist entirely out of proportion with her large, round ass. Equally out of proportion were her large breasts, which Ryan preferred to fondle and suck during couplings. Her decision to cater to her current partner’s fetishes meant she drew more attention than she preferred when alone.

Yet Ryan was not here and she did need to flee. Every moment she stood naked inside this dark and trash-filled apartment made it that more likely the Tharons would recapture her and return her to the partner she’d escaped nine months ago. She was not going back.

She ignited the apartment’s single bulb. That flooded the squalid space with light that stabbed her eyes, yet she did not have the energy to waste with unnecessary reconfiguration. It remained dark outside, so she would appreciate her night vision once she left the apartment.

She squinted as she rifled through piles of dirty laundry, all of it Ryan’s. There. The frilly red panties she recovered were among the most expensive of garments he had ever purchased for her, and while the thin strip of fabric in the rear was somewhat uncomfortable, the rest would at least provide a barrier between her hyper-sensitive parts and other clothing.

After she kicked aside an empty pizza box and unearthed her single pair of frayed jeans, it took real effort to wriggle them on. The worn denim hugged her lower half as tightly as a second skin. She had loved that when Ryan loved it, but it was simply inconvenient now.

While she had enough energy left for perhaps one more reconfiguration, she would make due with her current body. She needed to save her energy for true emergencies. There was still a very good chance someone could spot her fleeing, and if they told the Tharons, she wanted to ensure they provided a description of a woman who no longer existed.

Now merely topless, she rummaged through more piles of his discarded clothes. While she found no sign of her only bra, she did recover Ryan’s faded gray windbreaker. It smelled of spilled beer and cigarette smoke, but was more than large enough to fit her upper half.

She would borrow it. First, however, she snatched a thin tank top and shrugged it on, ignoring the too-tight fit. While it was not fully comfortable, it would blunt the sensation of the scratchy windbreaker against her nipples.

None of this clothing was ideal, but it would serve for the moment. She pulled on the windbreaker and walked to the door of the efficiency apartment. There, a pair of beaten up sneakers waited. These, at least, were appropriate for a fugitive on the run.

She pulled them on, unlocked the door, and slipped into the poorly-lit hallway between apartments with her limited mental defenses raised. She half expected to be hit with a Tharon mind blast the moment she emerged, but the hallway remained empty.

Larika’s warning had saved her. The Tharons might know where she was, but they weren’t here... yet. She could escape and rescue her sister when she was strong.

As for Ryan, whatever he was now, Sarenia had no fear for him. Even if the Tharons found this apartment and Ryan within it, he would receive no worse than a mental lull and a non-intrusive mind scan. For one with his vices, such an experience might even be pleasant.

Ryan had always been kind to her, even when high or drunk. He had been a funny, artistic, and gentle partner, and even her limited travels with him provided human experiences she’d found fascinating. Finally, and most importantly, he had provided anonymity. Co-habitating with him had kept her hidden from her hunters.

Still, while Sarenia would miss him, they had never really “clicked.” She wished him the best and hoped he would one day shed the weights that held him down, but saving him was no longer her responsibility. She had to focus on saving her sister now.

As she hurried down the stairs to the first floor of the apartments, she fought through her exhaustion. A month ago, just after their arrival on Earth, she and Larika had assumed identical forms and discussed their escape plans with each other to form memories.

In those memories, Sarenia’s plan was to flee to their ship, which was hidden beneath a nearby lake. Larika’s plan was to head into town, hide there, and find another partner.

What the Tharons could not know is that Sarenia and her sister had swapped memories so that each remembered devising the other’s plan. Only a sending like the one her twin sister had just sent her—a warning—would restore the true memory in the other twin.

If the Tharons had accessed Larika’s mind and “her” memory of Sarenia discussing her plan for escape, they believed she would run for her ship. That could give her just enough time to get into town and find… someone. Without a new partner, she could certainly be caught.

She met her first difficulty as she approached the parking lot. Two men who radiated paranoia and menace were having a smoke at the exit from the stairwell. Both glanced at her. The lust she sensed was immediate, and she was too weak to physical defend herself.

She reached out with her mind and found theirs, dulled with intoxicant, waiting. Under normal circumstances she would never invade a human’s mind against their consent—to do so was highly immoral, and immoral actions went against her nature—but this was a desperate situation. As she approached, she offered a light touch and lulled them both into complacency.

Both remained aware of her, and they lusted after her in a distant, dreamlike way, but neither attempted to grab or attack her. The mental effort further exhausted her, but this was why she was saving her remaining energy. For emergency use only.

Only once she was well into the parking lot did she release the lull she had imposed on their minds. They would come alert and feel as if they had dozed off. If they retained any memory of her, it would be as a buxom shadow.

She glanced toward the single road leading to the dilapidated apartments from the main street. That is the road down with the Tharons would come, and she had no doubt they were already on their way. She pushed into the nearby woods instead.

It was slow going through the dense woods, but her light-sensitive eyes allowed her to avoid anything that would trip her. She was growing more tired with each moment, but she never settled anywhere without learning her surroundings. She knew a mere five minutes from now she would stumble out of these woods onto an open field overlooking town.

She was almost there when she sensed the Tharon watching the nearby road.

Sarenia dropped into a crouch herself and reached out with her mental senses. As talented as Tharons were at detecting the use of her mental powers, they also had to specifically attune themselves when searching. This far out from her expected location, she had to hope this Tharon would be looking far away. It might not notice a close and gentle touch.

The other alien did not react as she lightly brushed his mind. Unlike humans, she had no moral scruples about invading the mind of a Tharon, but, mentally, he was far more powerful than her right now. She settled for dulling his senses as she snuck by.

By the time she reached the edge of the field overlooking town, she was exhausted both mentally and physically. Five days without a partner had taken a toll. Even so, she remained free. Below, in the night, lit streets revealed the small college town in which she would hide.

Somewhere down in that small town, she would find another partner. She would slip the closing Tharon noose and once again evade her hunters. Believing anything else went against her constantly optimistic core.

Now, all she had to do was jog into town and find someone to fuck her.

 

***

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CARTER

At just over twenty-one years old, standing just over six feet with a muscular build he’d maintained since his days running footballs for his high school team, a man like Carter Reed should have been finishing up college and planning his future. Instead, he was once again alone in an empty store at almost midnight, closing out another night shift at his local Subway.

As he swept the last of today’s crumbs and paper scraps into the bin of a trash bin on a stick, he tamped down all thoughts of what might have been and the resentment that came with them. He might not be where he wanted to be right now, but this job wasn’t forever, just until his uncle’s lawyer could straighten things out with the authorities in Texas. And even if this was to be his life... Jenna, his little sister, remained safe. That was what mattered.

Carter’s only other night shift co-worker, Rick, had called in sick for the night shift for the third time in a two weeks. From the way he sounded on the other of the line, Carter suspected the asshole hadn’t come in because he was high. This wasn’t unusual for Rick.

Sadly, Rick was also the son of Subway John, this particular franchise’s owner, which meant while another fellow Sandwich Artist would have immediately been fired for missing a shift, Rick would remain employed. And while the chance of Carter getting some real help for night shifts remained minimal, he didn’t dare complain about the work.

Subway John had hired Carter to work here as a favor to Carter’s uncle back in Texas, but just like his Uncle Eli, Subway John knew Carter remained a fugitive in his home town. While his current boss had promised to keep that to himself, Carter didn’t dare piss the man off. Even working a night shift at Subway five nights a week was better than working in prison.

He’d swept the floor as clean as he felt like making it, and even if John made a surprise visit, Carter didn’t see anything that would bother the man. It was technically still five minutes before he could close, but no one normally came in for a sandwich this late. The only people out in about were colleges kids, and all of them should still be at the bars.

He set the broom and trash bin on a stick aside and walked behind the counter to start wrapping ingredients. Store rules said he couldn’t start putting ingredients back into storage until he was closed, but there was no harm in getting a head start. At one minute to close, just after he’d finished wrapping the veggies, the bell on the door jangled.

Fuck me sideways, Carter cursed silently. He straightened and looked robotically toward the already closing door. “Welcome to Sub... way.” Even though he repeated those words a hundred times a day, he faltered on the last syllable.

The customer who had a midnight craving for a dry and pasty sandwich wasn’t a drunk college kid, nor was it one the piercing-eyed oldsters who nitpicked every last pickle he placed. Nor was it one of the too-friendly local women who’d taken to buying sandwiches several times a week as they hungrily eye-fucked him from across the counter.

No, this customer was a short young blonde in a loose gray windbreaker that somehow failed to conceal her absolutely incredible rack. Her tight denim jeans, frayed by numerous rips that looked to more from wear than design, likely highlighted what Carter assumed was an equally amazing ass. He couldn’t check that out from this angle, so he could only infer.

Yet it wasn’t her worn clothing or her attractive appearance that caused him to slow the last syllable of his corporate-mandated greeting. It was the obvious fear he saw reflected in her pale blue eyes. Fear that immediately made him want to help her.

Completely ignoring the rules and regulations of this particular Subway franchise, Carter hopped right over the counter, parkour-style, to approach. “You all right, miss? Do you need help? Should I call...” His words failed before he uttered the numbers 911.

He couldn’t just call the cops. He remained a fugitive in Texas, which was why he was living all the way out here in Pennsylvania. If at any point Pennsylvania PD came to know that fact, a dickish customer demanding too many vegetables would be the least of his worries.

“Hide,” the woman managed. “Need you to... hide me.” She looked up. “Please.”

Just unleashing those few words dropped her to one knee. She was breathing as heavy as if she’d just finished a marathon, and while a dozen random possibilities flooded Carter’s mind as he looked at her, including the fact that she might be part of a con setting him up to get robbed by partners waiting outside, her small, desperate “please” broke his indecision.

He stepped past her and locked the door, then flipped the hanging sign so the words CLOSED faced outside. He also flipped off the main lights, leaving the story lit only by the lights from the prep room. He closed the blinds and turned to find her still panting on the floor.

Was she injured? He walked back around to her front while maintaining a comfortable distance between them. He didn’t want her to think he meant her any harm.

“The door’s locked now, and you can hide you in the back if anyone comes looking. Who’s after you? Psycho stalker? Angry ex-boyfriend?”

What he was doing now might have seemed reckless or foolish for any other man, yet he felt insane as he imagined doing anything else. Just like his little sister back in Texas—like Jenna—this woman needed help. They also had a whole Subway to themselves.

“Need me to help you up?” Carter offered a hand just in case.

She clutched his hand in both of hers. As she pulled herself up, he didn’t miss the way she visibly trembled. She stumbled as she rose, this time forward and into his arms. He reflexively caught her so she wouldn’t fall, and found her exceedingly soft and warm.

Short and stacked had never been his particular favorite—he’d have to drop down to both knees just to kiss her—but with her clutching him like this, he was about ready to revise his preferences. Behind them, behind the sign that said CLOSED to everyone beyond the blinds and the locked door, a big fist thumped impatiently on the metal frame.

Carter froze at the distinctive sound he recognized from a dozen underage drinking parties as a “cop knock.” So this sweet blonde short stack was running from the cops? They were a stalker he hadn’t anticipated. Or... had they finally come for him?

No, that didn’t make any sense. Uncle Eli had assured him that cops and even detectives from back home couldn’t just come into Pennsylvania and arrest him. Texas cops had no jurisdiction here. So whoever was outside had to be after this woman... whoever she was.

Maybe she did intend to rob him. Maybe she had robbed someone else and needed to hide here to avoid getting arrested. Either way, another firm knock shook the blinds and told him whatever law officer was out there had no intention of leaving.

Carter had a choice to make, and given the almost animalistic fear he’d seen in this woman’s eyes, that choice didn’t take long. He firmly gripped her arms and eased her away so he could look down into her frightened, upturned, and softly beautiful face.

“There’s a freezer in the back. Hop in there and close the door. I’ll get rid of them.”

She slipped from his grasp in a way he wasn’t immediately able to comprehend. He could almost swear the upper arms he’d held had shrunk inside his hands as she slipped away, but human arms couldn’t do that, could they? He, like her, must also be mentally freaking out.

The pounding on the locked door came again, along with the words he’d dreaded hearing since he fled his home to hide in Pennsylvania and work at a sandwich shop.

“Law enforcement!” the man outside shouted. “Open this door!”

Carter glanced back to see if the woman had made it behind the counter yet, then blinked. The inside of his Subway was empty. There was no blonde anywhere in sight.

He could think of absolutely no way a woman in her visible condition could cover the distance from the door to freezer in the back in the short amount of time since she broke free of his embrace. He’d been one of the fastest players to ever catch a football in East Texas, and even he’d never been that fast. Where the hell had she gone?

“Open up right now!” the man outside demanded. “This is your last warning!”

Carter turned back to the door and took one calming breath. He was risking his freedom by opening those blinds, but he couldn’t not open them. The man obviously wasn’t going to just leave. He walked to the door and stuck two fingers in the blinds to raise one.

The piercing glare of a flashlight in his face forced him to squint. While there was obviously a man standing outside, the glare made him nothing but a large shadow. A shadow, Carter realized, that was taller than him.

“Sorry, we’re closed.” Carter knew even his raised voice would carry through the glass, so he didn’t have to shout. He tried to sound pissed off rather than worried.

“We’re seeking a wanted fugitive!” the man shouted from the other side of the locked door. “She’s armed, dangerous, and has already killed one person today! Is she in there?”

His relief that this man wasn’t after him was short-lived. That exhausted woman had actually killed someone today? Had she shot an abusive ex-husband or something?

As Carter replayed the abject terror in her eyes and the way she’d collapsed into his arms, clutching him like he was her only hope in the universe, he knew he couldn’t turn her over, and he also knew she might not have killed anyone. In addition to all his other life lessons, he’d learned something else as a young and wild youth growing up in Texas.

When a cop wanted you to do something, they had no problems making up bullshit.

While Carter was tempted to ask if the man had a warrant to search the place, he knew that would just make him sound more guilty. Instead, he leaned forward and raised one hand to shade his eyes against the flashlight. He’d try the reasonable approach first.

“No one’s come in here in the last thirty minutes. Also, I’m not allowed the open the front door after close. Boss’s orders.”

The flashlight dropped to reveal a tall man with a build that put even the biggest linebackers Carter had run behind back in his high school days to shame. He’d been in enough scraps to know how to throw a punch and take a few besides, but he didn’t favor his chances with a professionally trained fighter this much bigger than he was. The man outside looked more like a pro-wrestler than a cop.

He was a Black dude with a square jaw and a military buzz cut, and stranger yet, he wore dark sunglasses despite the fact that it was now past midnight. He also wore a dark suit jacket, white shirt, and black tie that must have been purchased from the only big and tall store for miles around. A movie Carter had seen years ago lodged inside his head.

Man in Black. MIB. The guys who hunt aliens. This guy is one of them?

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