“Why not?” Inferno asked.
“Do you trust him?” he countered.
“I don’t distrust him. Tigre seems to accept him.”
And so had Psy and Shadow. All the more reason to maintain vigilance, as far as Wingman was concerned. “Tigre is too accepting.” He sighed. “Do I think Chameleon is legit? Probably. But our lives are at stake. If we trust the wrong person, we’re screwed.”
“What other choice do we have? He led us to the spacecraft. If he’d wanted us dead, he could have left us on ’Topia.”
“And that’s why I didn’t airlock him.” Wingman clenched his fists as the grief he’d suppressed rose to the surface. “I lost people in the bombardment. I was visiting another province when the firebombs hit. I saw the flames, the smoke rise from my village. Lissa, the female I’d planned to mate, and my parents, friends, and neighbors died. Everyone died. We’re playthings to the Xenos. And he’s one of them.”
“I happened to be outside when my village came under attack. I saw a flash from the destroyer, so I had a few seconds’ warning. I managed to combust into flames before the fireball engulfed me, but others weren’t so lucky.” Inferno shook his head. “The Xenos scorched everything. For the longest time, I feared I was the sole survivor. Village after village had been reduced to ash. Finally, I encountered you and Tigre.”
With the entire planet in flames, the three of them had teamed up with Psy and Shadow to find a way to escape. They’d run into Chameleon, who’d led them to the Castaway. Under bombardment, they hadn’t questioned his identity. When an entry scan alerted them they’d joined up with the enemy, Wingman had insisted they lock him up.
“We’re all starting over,” Inferno said. “Chameleon is, too.”
“He escaped from the brig and impersonated you to gain access to the bridge.”
“Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
Besides the point. “He disappeared overnight.”
“Because he met his mate.”
“So he said.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“The fact he would consider leaving her makes me question whether she is his mate,” Wingman said. She certainly couldn’t be a genmate.
Inferno shrugged. “He thinks he’s protecting her.”
“Maybe,” Wingman conceded. If he had a mate, he’d do anything to protect her—even leave her behind. He hated to admit he might have something in common with the Xeno.
Inferno peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “Have you ever wondered what sex with a human would be like? I wouldn’t mind blazing a trail with a human before we leave.”
“We’d have to get off this ship, first!” He snorted. “Maybe that’s part of it. Maybe I’m jealous. Chameleon and Psy can blend with the natives. Meeting Mysk was the only time we’ve been off the ship. That’s what infuriates me. We agreed to lie low. We isolate ourselves while Chameleon runs all over Earth, meets a mate, and then reveals his real form! I haven’t flown since we left ’Topia.” He flexed his aching wings.
“I hear you. We wouldn’t have been able to meet with Mysk if he hadn’t sent a limousine with tinted windows.” He stopped in the middle of the passage. “But maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“As long as no one sees us, why can’t we leave? At night, we wouldn’t stand out as much. Can you make your wings less noticeable?”
“It’s not comfortable, but how’s this?” Wingman folded them tighter and closer to his body.
“That’s good!” Inferno scrutinized him. “They’re almost not visible from the front. If you wore a cape, nobody would see your wings.”
“What about you though?” Wingman eyed Inferno’s red face and horns.
“In the dark, my red skin will look brown. There are a lot of brown humans. And I can have the replicator make me a ball cap to hide my horns.”
“Ball cap?”
“A sporting hat. They are quite popular with male humans.”
“Make me one, too. Let’s fly the coop!” Wingman grinned.
Chapter Sixteen
Hands on her hips, Kevanne watched Chameleon snap the last shelf into place. “Perfect!” She kissed him. “The shop looks amazing. Thank you so much for helping me.” Her handyman had turned out to be quite handy. There’d been a few small hiccups, but he learned fast, and together they’d accomplished more than she ever could have on her own.
The day after the spring fling, a small surge of Internet orders from customers who hadn’t purchased at the event had come in. Cam had helped package and mail the items. Almost all of her old stock had sold.
In another stroke of good luck, the weather turned unseasonably warm and sunny, and, with the forecast predicting more of the same, she’d gotten a lot of the work done in the fields. Cam had brought a friend from the ship, Psy, to help. They planted the lavender seedlings and cleaned up fallow fields. She was pleased to discover many plants were still living and thriving.
With the most important task settled, she’d begun sprucing up the small hut that would serve as her gift shop. Cam had helped her paint and install shelves. “What’s Psy doing these days?” she asked as she stowed the tools in their case.
“We got a lead on a man who might have an airplane hangar to rent. Since everything is hush-hush, and Psy can pass for human, he went to get the particulars.”
Cam’s friend had looked and acted human at first glance; however, the more she got to know him, the less human he seemed. He had an aura of otherness. He reminded her of people who were exceptional—they didn’t quite fit with the crowd. After learning Psy could read minds, she’d been a little apprehensive, but she’d accepted Cam’s reassurance Psy wouldn’t invade her privacy. And he seemed genuinely nice, and eager to help, like Cam.
“That’s a relief. I was afraid he was hiding out because I’d worked him too hard,” she joked.
“Never.” Cam kissed her. “We both enjoyed it. Psy said last week was the best time he’d had since we landed on Earth. The others probably would have enjoyed helping also. I’m surprised they’re not going stir crazy, being cooped up. Traveling through space on a ship is different than living on one when it’s docked.”
“What do you need an airplane hangar for?”
“Mysk’s designers can build the parts faster if they have easy access to the Castaway,” he said. “Each part has to be designed, tested, and then redesigned.”
“And you can’t move the ship to Seattle, so you need a place here for Mysk’s workers.”
“Exactly.”
“Won’t the owner of the hangar think it’s strange so many people are coming and going. Your friends won’t be able to hide.” They were big on secrecy. Except for Psy, she hadn’t met any of them.
“That’s a concern,” Cam admitted. “We hope the owner lives elsewhere and doesn’t use the property. Probably it’s too much to hope for, but we need to check out the hanger possibility. If Mysk can work on the Castaway here, they can have it ready to fly in about two months. Otherwise, it will take twice as long.”