Fallen from the Stars Read online

  Fallen from the Stars

  The Kraken #6

  Tiffany Roberts

  Contents

  Blurb

  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

  Author’s Note

  Also by Tiffany Roberts

  About the Author

  Vasil has spent his life serving the needs of his people, denying his own desires — until a star falls from the sky. He follows its fiery trail and finds the unexpected: a mysterious human female. She is his chance at having the mate, the family for which he’s longed. But when he discovers her connection to the organization that created and enslaved his ancestors, he must decide if claiming his happiness is worth the risk of exposing the kraken.

  Stranded on an unknown planet, Theodora Velenti has limited supplies and no way to call for help. Hopeless, the arrival of a half-man, half-octopus alien doesn’t seem like an improvement. But despite his differences, Theo finds herself drawn to him. Giving in to Vasil’s advances means accepting that the life she knew is gone forever. Can she give up a chance of rescue or is what she and Vasil feel for each other real?

  Copyright © 2019 by Tiffany Freund and Robert Freund Jr.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including scanning, photocopying, uploading, and distribution of this book via any other electronic means without the permission of the author and is illegal, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publishers at the address below.

  Tiffany Roberts

  [email protected]

  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 Illustration © 2019 by Cameron Kamenicky

  Proofread by Cissel Ink

  Created with Vellum

  May your stars always shine bright.

  Chapter 1

  364 Years After Landing

  Fire had fallen from the sky.

  Vasil gave chase; he sped through restless waters, sweeping his arms to the sides, flaring his tentacles wide and snapping them together. He lifted his head above the surface as often as possible to keep the fiery object’s trail in sight without sacrificing speed, but he was not quick enough — the smoke overhead grew wispier and more indistinct with each passing moment, hastened by the strengthening wind. It would dissipate entirely before long, and he would lose his only chance to locate the mysterious object.

  He’d kept his den on land for nearly two years, and in that time, he’d never seen anything like what he’d experienced on the beach — a streak of orange fire blasting overhead that had briefly illuminated the sand as though it were a warm, sunny afternoon and seemed to set the water ablaze for a few heated moments. His knowledge of the surface world was limited, but fire did not fall from above. Wind came from the sky, and water when it rained, but not fire.

  What was it? Had a star fallen from the night sky? He could recall one of the humans explaining to Arkon that the stars were distant balls of fire, but Vasil had not been directly involved in the conversation. Could a star plummet from its place overhead?

  If so, what did it mean?

  He needed to know what the thing was despite his misgivings; taking to open water after nightfall alone was foolish, but curiosity had overpowered his good sense.

  Sea swells rose and fell around him, creating ever-changing peaks and valleys that only grew more pronounced as Vasil left land farther behind. The unease in his gut intensified and seeped into his bones. It solidified into cold, heavy dread as the sea became choppier and the smoke further faded.

  Vasil rode a swell to its peak and scanned his surroundings. The sea was dark gray beneath an inky black sky, barely reflecting the twinkling starlight overhead. Water stretched to the horizon in all directions save one — dark clouds blotted out the sky to his left, creating the illusion that the water was clawing its way skyward to swallow the heavens. Flashes of lightning pulsed through the distant clouds, highlighting the enormity of the coming storm. Thunder followed a few heartbeats later, its rumbling vibrating through him to resonate with the icy dread harbored at his core.

  The collapsing swell plunged him into a shadowy valley, limiting his view to the surrounding walls of water, the stars overhead, and a lingering span of the smoke trail.

  He couldn’t guess how long he’d been swimming; Vasil knew only that land was far behind him. He’d not reach The Watch before the storm struck even if he turned around now. Whether the fiery object awaited just beyond the next swell or somewhere beyond the horizon, he’d have no choice but to seek shelter on the ocean floor tonight until the weather subsided and the sea calmed.

  His body ached from the exertion of his frantic pursuit, but he would not allow his efforts to be wasted.

  Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward. The ocean tossed him up and down with increasing agitation and force, a precursor of what was to come, but he clung to his determination. He would use every available moment before he was forced to abandon his hunt.

  The one occasion upon which he’d favored curiosity over caution had quickly become a dangerous situation. He was sure the humans had a word or a colorful expression for what he was experiencing; this seemed like a bad joke, made in poor taste and at Vasil’s expense, but that word didn’t feel right.

  Fresh thunder boomed over the ocean, so deep and powerful it seemed it would crack open the sky and pour all the remaining stars onto Halora in a rain of silver fire. Instinct demanded Vasil seek shelter, but he had time to push a little farther.

  He adjusted the rhythm of his tentacles to keep his head above water as he rode the next swell toward its peak. The smoke trail was at its thinnest thus far; stars shone through its ghostly form, which was only a shade or two lighter than the darkness beyond.

  Howling wind whipped stinging moisture into his face. As he reached the apex of the swell, he swept his gaze over the tumultuous sea, searching for even the smallest sign of something in the water. Storm clouds loomed on the edge of his vision, closer than before. Disconcerting energy charged the air, crackling across his exposed skin.

  Something flashed in the water — a brief reflection of starlight, even more fleeting than a lightning strike.

  The water fell, obscuring Vasil’s view of the object. Whatever it was, it had been relatively close, but that could change rapidly in these conditions. Vasil was at the mercy of wind and sea. Even with him swimming his hardest, it was possible the sea would only carry the object farther and farther away. He could chase it through the night and never draw nearer if the sea chose to toy with him.

  He pushed onward, demanding more from his strained muscles. He’d come this far. He would not surrender.

  Each time he crested a swell, he sought the object, and he was rewarded with occasional flickers of reflected starlight or glimpses of something paler than the surrounding water. He adjusted his course upon each sighting, battling powerful, conf
licting currents to draw a little closer, one body length at a time.

  With each beat of his hearts, the storm also drew closer.

  As he sank into the next valley, the object descended an opposing swell directly ahead.

  A flash of lightning covered the object in hard light for an instant. It was rounded and oblong with a reflective circle near the front. The object floated on the waves, ringed by dark, bulbous protrusions around its base — flotation sacs of some sort. The ghostly afterimage of its reflective surface lingered in his vision for several moments after darkness returned, drifting through his sight as the booming thunder reached into his chest and squeezed his hearts.

  Rain began suddenly, falling in a relentless torrent that further limited his already obscured view.

  Vasil did not allow his head to dip below the surface. He swam against the sea’s pull with all his remaining strength and latched onto the object’s flotation sacs with his tentacles once it was within reach.

  The object itself was larger than him, well more than a body’s length from one end to the other and almost half as tall — comparable in size to some of the middling fishing boats back in The Watch. Though he wasn’t entirely sure about human measurements, he guessed this to be about five meters from front to back. It appeared entirely sealed above the water’s surface. He pressed a hand to its side. If it was metal, it did not feel like any metal with which he was familiar; this seemed somehow smoother and denser.

  More lightning flared in the sky, illuminating strange symbols on the object’s side. They resembled the symbols used in human writing he’d seen at both The Watch and the Facility, but they were disrupted by dark marks that must’ve been caused by the fire.

  The thunder’s rumbling vibrated through the mysterious object.

  This is beyond foolish. If it is metal, it is likely to be struck by lightning, and I will learn about fire from the inside out.

  Just a quick look and he’d go below for shelter. A few more moments couldn’t hurt — he’d not deny himself that after the struggle of locating this thing. He could not bring himself to abandon the pursuit of his curiosity despite the explicit danger.

  Raindrops hammered the strange material, shattering and splashing to fill the air with stinging mist. With hands and tentacles, Vasil hauled himself out of the water and climbed atop the object. His suction cups felt a narrow seam on the surface, but it was too small to see. He paid it little mind; the circular section of glass inlaid on the top front of the object claimed his full attention.

  Vasil leaned over the glass and wiped away the droplets gathered upon it with one hand, but it was too dark to see inside. What did it contain? Though he had no idea what this thing was, it seemed humanmade; this was no fallen star, unless humans had made the stars just like they’d made the kraken.

  Humans hadn’t made the stars, they’d come from them ages ago. Hadn’t they?

  As the object bobbed on the churning water, sea and sky lashed against it with wind, waves, and rain. All three struck with biting force, hitting Vasil repeatedly as though possessing solid form. The sting permeated his skin. He needed to leave, needed to give up this stupidity and seek shelter from the storm’s fury.

  Instead, he found himself leaning closer to the glass, lighting the tiny points of bioluminescence on his stripes. Their glow reflected on the smooth surface, creating the brief illusion of a sky full of stars. Through the reflections, he could just make out a dark, shadow-shrouded shape, defined only by faint highlights along its edges.

  Vasil dipped his face closer still. What was it? There was something familiar about it, but he could not assemble the pieces into a complete, coherent mental image — until lightning arced overhead.

  Neither the sudden flash nor the immediate, deafening peal of thunder accompanying it startled him; his mind was too absorbed by what he saw. For the briefest instant — a fraction of a heartbeat — the object’s interior was illuminated. Though bereft of color, the image was burned into his mind with vibrancy and clarity.

  There was a human female inside, eyes closed and features relaxed.

  Countless thoughts tumbled through his head, most of them questions. Had humans come to Halora by plummeting from the stars? Was each star a human encased in one of these egg-like…things?

  He thrust all questions aside save for the most immediate — was this human alive?

  If he went below to shelter himself from the storm, he would lose the object to the sea forever. He could not haul it under with the flotation sacs inflated, but if he destroyed them and the object sank, he also wasn’t likely to get it back to the surface again.

  Could this thing weather the storm?

  Could he?

  He’d wasted too much time already. No one else would help this human. No one else could.

  Moving as carefully as possible despite the thrashing sea, Vasil dragged himself below the surface and clung to the underside of the object. The sound of water rushing all around dominated his hearing, but it was not enough to fully drown out the booming thunder from above.

  His tentacles brushed over the object’s otherwise smooth surface in search of better purchase only to find a damaged portion; the object’s outer shell had either cracked or been torn off in a spot on its underside, leaving a jagged wound behind. He dared not probe the damage further; his limited study of human machinery and technology over the last year or two had taught him primarily that much of it was far too complicated to be repaired without sophisticated tools and specific, precisely-crafted parts.

  He held tight as the storm raged and the sea continued its violent dance, as the strange object leapt and fell on the water, as waves and currents battered his body. Time held no meaning — the rapid thumping of his hearts was the only measure of its passage, interrupted often by unpredictable lightning flashes that pierced the blackness and roaring thunder that vibrated into him through the object. At some point, Vasil closed his eyes and poured all his focus into maintaining his desperate grip on the object, fighting the aches that had suffused his body down to his smallest suction cups.

  Abrasive sand scraped along his back.

  Opening his eyes, he scrambled to a new position on the side of the object, dragging his torso above the surface.

  The sky remained dark, the wind strong, but the rain seemed to have eased. And there was something directly ahead — a strip of paler gray in the gloom.

  A beach.

  Vasil shifted to the rear of the object and pushed, ignoring the fiery protests in his weary arms, shoulders, and tentacles. He moved with an awkward combination of swimming and crawling, digging his front tentacles into the sand to force the object forward. The waves rolling toward the shore helped him along. Soon, the water was shallow enough that he didn’t have to swim.

  The water steadily grew shallower until there was no swimming involved.

  His advance faltered when the object’s underside finally struck sand. Vasil paused, chest heaving. His body craved rest; were he to collapse there, he would undoubtedly have fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber despite the surf flowing over and around him.

  But the tide could not be trusted to safeguard either Vasil or the object. Even a slight rise in the water level would be enough to carry either of them back out to sea.

  He spread his tentacles, lowered his head, clenched his jaw, and pushed.

  The object was heavier than he’d expected now that it was partially on land, but the smooth curve of its underside — paired with the incoming tide — eased its journey just enough for him to gain ground. When the object tipped forward, he paused only long enough to lower his stance and adjust the positions of his hands before pushing again.

  Slowly, he moved the object out of the water. He allowed himself not a moment’s respite until he’d pushed it beyond the driftwood and debris that marked the high tide line. Growling against the pain in his overexerted muscles, he gave one final shove before collapsing to the ground.

  As he caught his br
eath, rain fell on his back. Its rhythm seemed deliberate, as though it were part of a song primarily played by instruments he could not hear. He closed his eyes and let himself feel everything — the drumming rain, the wet, rough sand beneath him, the rasp of briny air in and out of his lungs, and the throbbing aches in his limbs.

  He pushed himself up slowly and climbed atop the egg-like object. He slid his palms over its surface to locate the tiny seams he’d felt before, but they were too narrow to even slip a claw between, and he could identify no release mechanism nearby. Even the edges of the glass seemed to blend smoothly into the rest of the exterior, offering no purchase for the tips of his claws.

  Vasil rolled onto his back and turned toward the sea. The roiling waves were black and foreboding, but the sky bore the faintest hint of gray — a whispered announcement of approaching dawn? It felt as though days had passed since he’d leapt into the water to chase the unknown object. Could it only have been hours since he’d been on the beach near his den, contemplating what relationship he might hope to build with his daughter now that her parentage had been confirmed?

  He lowered himself from the object and moved onto the long grass bordering the beach, where he eased onto the ground. Fumbling around in the dark wasn’t likely to release the woman, especially when he knew nothing about the object’s purpose or functionality. But he couldn’t just leave her locked inside. If she yet lived, there was no guarantee of her continued survival. What if her air supply was limited or somehow tainted?

 
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