Tomlin (How the Aliens Were Won Book 8), page 1
TOMLIN
HOW THE ALIENS WERE WON
HONEY PHILLIPS
Copyright © 2024 by Honey Phillips
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair
Edited by Lindsay York at LY Publishing Services
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Other Titles
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Tomlin scrubbed his hands again, trying to wash away the non-existent traces of blood, then forced himself to turn off the water. As he did he looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and he swore. They had assumed the faint blue shimmer that clearly revealed he was not entirely human.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on counting the beats of his heart, performing the same ritual his mother had taught him before he was even old enough to walk. When he opened his eyes, he looked completely human again. He didn’t appear as calm and controlled as he usually did - his face tired and strained - but that, however, was something he could deal with.
Resisting the urge to wash his hands again, he straightened his collar and made sure that he had resumed his usual pristine appearance, then turned and walked out of the room without sparing a glance at the body on the floor. Marshall Thompson had provided the information he needed. His… friends were safe.
There would be no more strangers coming to their farm and threatening them and their mates. He regretted the necessity of his actions, but he owed no loyalty to this man. He had given his loyalty to S’kal when the big green male had jumped into a fight to protect him.
Normally, he could have handled the assailants on his own, but he was tired and sick of fighting his curse. He’d been on the verge of unleashing his other side when S’kal had appeared.
S’kal had not only assisted him, he had given him the opportunity for a new way of life. He’d stepped into the role of assistant, helping to manage the trading caravans that S’kal led to the frontier settlements outside the city.
He had enjoyed the change of scenery and handling the constant demands of the traders and it had satisfied him to provide for S’kal. It had made him feel… needed.
But then everything changed. S’kal had found his mate and decided to give up leading the caravans and settle down with a group of former warriors, warriors he had served with during a war on another planet. Even his trips to Port Cantor were no longer necessary once his brother H’zim was freed.
Somewhat to his surprise, he had also found a place for himself there, assisting with the operation of the farm. And then this threat had arisen. Marshall had tried to infiltrate the farm on at least three occasions and showed no compunction about threatening harm to any of the warriors or their mates.
Even worse, Tomlin had discovered that the Marshall’s goal was to seek the source of the morchev. The purple jewels had little intrinsic value but they posed a very specific threat to anyone who had any type of psychic powers - people like him. The jewels could also be combined with another substance to create a psychic weapon that was capable of asserting control over the minds of others, even those without psychic talents.
He could not permit that to occur.
Fortunately, Marshall was a secretive bastard. His long years leading a double life as both a respected businessman and the leader of a large crime syndicate meant that he trusted no one. He had been trying to acquire both components, the morchev and the plebanium, in different deals and no other parties were aware of their combined use. The unfortunate fool who had first brought the possibility to Marshall’s attention had been eliminated long ago. All of which meant that the farm and its inhabitants should be safe.
He slipped down the back stairway of the Thompson Tower paying no attention to the number of flights involved - his weariness was not physical - then paused just inside the concealed door panel. Now what? He needed to return to the farm and assure S’kal and the others that they were safe, but he felt uneasy about returning.
The contact with the jewels, even at a distance, and the necessity of gaining information from Marshall had weakened his control. Perhaps allowing himself to… care for others, to become involved in their lives, had also had an effect on his usual discipline.
I should take some time alone to reflect. And to rebuild my control.
Nodding to himself, he opened the door and immediately flinched at the assault on his senses. The concealed door opened onto a small back alley but it was only a short distance from the main thoroughfare and the usual cacophony of people and traffic filled the air. Brightly colored hover carts passed by the end of the alley intermixed with everyone from businessmen to shoppers. Even in this expensive business district the slight acrid tang of spaceship fuel mingled with the scent of flowers.
But he was reacting to more than just the normal impact on his enhanced senses. He could feel traces of the emotions of those hurrying about their daily business. He couldn’t pick out anything specific but it was a constant low buzz like a swarm of tiny, stinging insects surrounding him.
Fuck. He hadn’t experienced this level of awareness in many years.
Just ignore it, he told himself. I simply need to return to the flyer and leave the city.
He straightened his shoulders and strode down the alley and out onto the street. Fortunately, the buzz of emotions was no louder once he emerged and he did his best to walk confidently, knowing that he did not appear out of place in this primarily human section of the city.
But then someone brushed against him and he almost staggered as a wave of avarice washed over him. The male who had touched him was on his way to a business deal - a crooked business deal if he had interpreted the emotions correctly - and was full of delight and greed at the prospect of taking advantage of the one he was about to meet.
He swore again. If his control had eroded to the point where a mere touch from another left him exposed to their emotions, he was in deep trouble. Although he normally tried to avoid touch, a casual encounter was, or at least had been, relatively easy to control with any emotional residue from the other person muffled under years of training and discipline.
Training and discipline which were failing him now.
The businessman he’d encountered had already rushed away and he kept moving, doing his best to avoid any further encounters. He was both fast and agile even without resorting to any of his enhanced abilities but the city was crowded and taking extreme measures to avoid people was likely to draw attention that he did not want.
By the time he got to his flyer his hands were shaking and his mind was awash with unwanted emotions, so many of them harsh and painful. He climbed into the flyer and closed the door. Although the physical barrier was not enough to block out the ever louder buzz of the city, it gave him a feeling of protection. Once again he closed his eyes and performed the ritual, hoping to find some measure of peace.
After a frustratingly long time, he succeeded in muffling the press of emotions to the point where he felt in control once more. Despite his urge to leave the city, he had one more task to complete first. He pulled out the data chip he’d retrieved from Marshall’s hidden safe, inserted it into the reader, and applied the encryption key he had… convinced Marshall to give him.
The contents were remarkably well organized and he skipped past the business information for now, searching for any additional information about either the morchev or the plebanium. Everything listed was the information he’d previously retrieved except for one item. Marshall had been tracking a study being done by a researcher at the Port Cantor university - not only tracking but subsidizing a grant under one of his shell companies. The researcher was investigating the properties of the morchev. While there was nothing to indicate that this Dr. E. Morgan had any interest in using the stones as part of a psychic weapon - or even that he was aware of their psychic properties - it would be best to be sure.
The doctor’s lab was located about a half day’s ride from the small town of Wainwright in the foothills of the mountains. He could get there more quickly if he used the flyer but due to issues with supplies and maintenance away from the city, they were not common and he didn’t want to attract attention. He decided to take the flyer as far as the town and then ride the rest of the way.
He only hoped it would not be necessary to… silence the doctor the same way he’d had to silence Marshall.
CHAPTER 2
Dr. Etta Morgan frowned down at the results of her experiment. The work she’d been doing with the morchev kept surprising her.
Once again the seemingly insignificant gems had displayed unusual readings. Her original research project had simply been to catalog the various gems and minerals found on Cresca - an undertaking that had not been accomplished before.
Although it had begun as a routine process, once she discovered the morchev and their more unusual properties she’d been fascinated. With the approval of her department head at the university in Port Cantor, she’d decided to focus solely on the gems until she had uncovered all of their mysteries. Unfortunately it seemed as if everything she discovered only revealed more intriguing possibilities.
A knock on the door startled her out of her abstraction, her frown deepening. She wasn’t expecting visitors. She had set up her lab in the foothills of the mountains specifically to avoid any unwanted interruptions and, other than a once monthly delivery of supplies, she didn’t see or hear from anyone. Why was someone here now?
She started for the door then paused and retrieved a small blaster from its usual location in the drawer of her desk. While she wasn’t an expert, she was a competent shot and she wasn’t foolish enough to assume that anyone who appeared at her door had good intentions.
She’d even been accosted once in Wainwright, the closest town, while taking a shortcut between two buildings. Fortunately a swift knee to the balls had discouraged her attacker, and as she’d been exiting the alley a large alien male had been entering it. She’d heard enough of the following conversation to know that he had also threatened the man who had tried to take advantage of her. Apparently he’d been successful in convincing the man not to be so foolish in future. From what she’d heard he’d left town shortly thereafter.
Pausing to one side of the door, she took a quick glance through the one way glass. A normal-looking human man dressed in black stood outside.
Well, perhaps not entirely normal, she decided as she studied him.
While he was remarkably well built - both tall and muscular - that wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the way he held himself, not stiffly but with a precision which argued some kind of martial training. He had short-cropped dark hair and rather stern, angular features, composed in an expressionless mask.
He was looking directly at the door and she had the uneasy feeling that he could see her despite the one way glass. A shiver ran down her spine and she was suddenly quite sure that this man was dangerous - but that didn’t necessarily mean he was dangerous to her. He had knocked politely enough, and it seemed foolish not to at least find out why he’d made the journey.
“Take two paces back from the door,” she ordered.
A flash of what might have been surprise crossed his face, but then it settled back into the previous cool expression as he obeyed. Once he had moved away she opened the door, keeping her gun concealed at her side.
“What do you want?”
“You are Dr. E. Morgan?”
His deep voice was as calm and controlled as his appearance.
“Yes - although I assume you knew that before you made the trip out here. What do you want?”
After an almost imperceptible pause he focused directly on her face and their eyes met. His eyes were an unusual shade of green with a slight bluish tint. Another shiver ran down her spine but this time it was due not to nerves but rather an unexpected current of attraction.
Nonsense, she thought, immediately dismissing the idea. She had long ago decided that she had no interest in the opposite sex.
“My name is Tomlin. I understand that you are researching morchev,” he said after another tiny pause.
“That is correct. Why?”
Another hesitation.
“I am interested in the results of your research. I believe I may also be able to provide some information which would be useful to you.”
“Are you a scientist?” she asked skeptically.
“No, but I do have some… experience with the gems. Also I have heard stories about them.”
Now that was interesting. None of the research that she had done had indicated anyone else taking any interest in the stones except as attractive if not particularly valuable gems.
“What kind of stories?” she demanded.
The eyebrow went up again.
“Perhaps we could have this conversation inside. It may take a while.”
This time she was the one to hesitate. Even though he wasn’t carrying any obvious weapons, her earlier impression hadn’t changed - she was still convinced that he could be dangerous. However one of the first things a scientist learned was not to make assumptions, and she studied him thoughtfully. He had knocked politely enough, and if he had intended her harm there would have been nothing to prevent him from making an attempt.
It wasn’t as if anyone else were in the area. Since he wasn’t aware that she was armed he would have justifiably thought that he was capable of overwhelming her physically. People were often a mystery to her but somehow she didn’t think he intended her harm.
Besides, her curiosity was aroused. She stepped back, holding the door open wider.
“Very well. You may come in.”
He nodded a brief thanks and walked through the door. The small hallway immediately seemed to grow even smaller. She was a tall woman but her head barely reached his shoulder and although his build was lean rather than bulky, it didn’t diminish the sense of danger she got from him. He moved with the sleek powerful grace of a predator.
He raised an eyebrow again and she realized she’d been standing there silently staring at him, but she refused to be embarrassed. She hesitated a moment longer, trying to decide where to take him. While the majority of the building was devoted to her laboratory, she also had a compact living area to the right of the entry hall. Since she preferred to keep her research private, she opened the door to the living area instead.
Like the rest of the building, the space was utilitarian and designed for efficiency rather than elegance - her one indulgence had been the large bathroom at the end of the hallway. Unfortunately, although she kept her lab in pristine order, she had little time or interest in housekeeping.
His eyes flicked briefly to the dishes piled in the sink, the cluttered array of documents and used tea mugs on the table, and the worn upholstery on the second hand furniture, but he didn’t comment.
“Have a seat,” she said, finally remembering the manners that her guardian’s wife had tried so hard to instill in her.
After pausing briefly in the doorway, he accepted the invitation and took a seat in the rather battered wooden chair by the window. The wood creaked beneath his weight and she bit back a smile as she pushed aside another stack of papers and sat down on the equally aged sofa.
Just as in the hallway, the room seemed much smaller with him in it and an awkward silence fell. Those odd greenish-blue eyes were still studying her face and she had the uncomfortable feeling that her cheeks were heating under his scrutiny. He’s only interested in my research, she reminded herself. Although…
“How did you know that I was working with morchev? I haven’t published anything yet.”
“I have contacts at the university,” he said calmly. “One of them was aware that I had been gathering folklore about the stones and suggested that I contact you.”
It seemed plausible enough, and it wasn’t as if there were anything secret about her work, and yet she still had the feeling that he was concealing something. However, if he had any information which might be useful to her research that was more interesting than any secrets he might be hiding.
“What kind of folklore?”
“One of the tales I heard was that the stones were a gift from the gods, to connect the hearts and minds of those who held them. An ancient king was granted the first one, that he might understand his people better and rule more wisely.”
His deep, calm voice filled the room as he continued, sharing the tale of how the king had discovered a darker side to the gems and created an order of warrior priests to protect them. He was an excellent storyteller and she listened in fascination as he described the exploits of the priests and their efforts to protect the stones. By the time he’d finished, the late afternoon sun was casting a golden light around his head and shoulders.
