Mihile's Marvel - A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (The Quasar Lineage Book 12) | eBook

TWO WEEKS AGO
Looking up at the bus windows as it pulls to a stop in front of me, I notice the packed seats, wondering if there will even be standing room available. Glancing at my watch, I know there’s no chance I can wait for the next one. Not if I want to make my next class, which starts in forty-five minutes at the Lady Shri Ram College.
Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to my father. He’s my point of contact from the time I step out the door of the hospital until I arrive on campus at my all-girls college here in New Delhi. He’ll expect me to let him know when I get on the bus and find a seat.
Even though the bus is packed, I’m getting on. 
I have to. If I wait for the next one, I’ll be late.
Ignoring the ping of my father’s response, I tuck my phone away and make sure that all my belongings are secured snugly in the backpack I’m carrying. This is my least favorite route, but I don’t have much choice. 
Because of my health issues, I have quarterly checkups to track the thalassemia intermedia I was born with. It’s not normally life-threatening or anything. It just means that my body can’t produce enough hemoglobin and red blood cells.
Unfortunately, I had a head cold over the last month, and my doctor scheduled me for a blood transfusion that my regular escort couldn’t attend. Public buses are more dangerous than the metro, where female-only compartments keep us separated from the jostling crowds of men I’m encountering now.
Climbing the stairs, I pause, noticing that a large portion of the occupants are exiting out of the rear doors, but all the seats near the front are still full. Slowly, I follow the line of men ahead of me, moving deeper into the narrow lane between the seats before pausing next to a vacant space by an elderly gentleman. 
Twisting slightly, I drop into the seat gratefully, pulling my backpack loose to settle it on my lap. Keeping my face forward, I ignore my surroundings as more people continue to walk by, squeezing into the already crowded area. Eventually, they all pack in, and with a jerk, we’re off.
I’m a little concerned with some leers I’m receiving from a group of young men just ahead of me. Glancing behind me, I realize I traveled further into the bus than I realized, but I still feel it was worth it. Getting a blood transfusion makes me feel woozy, and I don’t want to be standing if I don’t have to be. 
I release my phone from the zipper pocket to send my father his customary text.
I’m seated. Xx
When he doesn’t respond instantly, I tuck it away to study the window over the older gentleman to my left. The bus rumbles beneath me as we sway into traffic and the surrounding conversations escalate, drowning out any concerns until a shadow is cast over my right side, followed by an unfamiliar voice.
“Why, hello there, pretty thing. How’re you doing today?”
I would and could ignore his heavy weight pressed against my arm and side, but his hand trails across my shoulders, wrapping around my neck. Like we know each other. Or like I’m public property to paw.
“Stop that!” 
Jerking to my left, I pull my weight forward, perching on the edge of my seat. Typical. Someone else who just can’t mind his own business.
Creating a clicking sound with his tongue, his hand follows me, tightening on my neck and pinching the muscles painfully as he scolds me. “Don’t be like that… come on. We just want to talk.”
We?
My stomach sinks in fear. There are echoing murmurs of agreement that escalate my worry as his hand drops from my neck to grab my upper arm near him. 
Hugging my backpack to my chest, I implore the older man next to me on my left. “Please. I don’t know him. Just—”
My plea is cut off as I’m yanked from the seat. Instead, I scream, hoping someone will come to my rescue. “No! Please! Anyone… I don’t know him!”
I’m only standing for an instant before I’m shoved into another seat only a few rows back, and my cries are cut off as I’m pulled into two sets of powerful arms. A hand is immediately across my mouth, and my teeth cut into flesh, drawing the tangy, copper taste of blood. 
“Fucking bitch,” hisses the man whose face I’ve yet to see. As soon as the fingers disappear, I cry out, but it’s short-lived as a cloth is stuffed into my mouth, cutting off my voice. 
I begin thrashing, kicking, and bucking in the small space between the men’s bodies and the seat in front of them. Not only does everyone on the bus ignore me, but so do my captors, who snatch my backpack from my hands. 
I watch helplessly as it disappears over the back of the seat to someone else’s hands. As stupid as it sounds at the moment, my first thought is my phone and school books, are both gone and likely to never be seen again. But my brief instant of worry for them is short-lived as I realize I have a lot more that I should be concerned about. 
The man who originally assaulted me and put me into this situation has situated himself between my jean-clad legs. As my captors beneath me hold me tightly, his fingers fumble with my waist.
Not letting them get the better of me, instead of trying to pull away as they expect, I twist and turn into the bodies holding me, throwing my head up as I turn. Pain bursts through my forehead as it slams against the nose of the man holding my shoulders and mouth. He immediately releases me, but another man in the seat behind us has stood and taken my captor’s place, holding my arms, but not before smashing his fist into my face at least twice.
I lost count after that. Blow after blow rains down on my body. My hip, my stomach… it all takes my breath away. By the time I stop coughing, I realize my pants are around my ankles. Arching my back to try to pull from the arms around my midsection, I’m straining helplessly against my captors. 
An elbow to my throat has my eyes watering as my vision dims to grey, and for a moment, I’m sure I’m going to pass out. The coughing and wheezing compress the material, still jammed in my teeth. I push at it with my tongue, trying to breathe, and scream around my shortness of breath as the gag cuts off my air. 
It’s hopeless, though.
My body works on autopilot, bucking and trying to fight, although I can feel my muscles cramping as they fatigue. I won’t go easily. 
Of course, I’ve always known this is a possibility. 
It’s a way of life in New Delhi and not uncommon in most of the country. Every day brings a fresh set of decisions about how to stay safe. 
Should I take a chance and walk to school today since my friend who normally doubles me on their scooter is sick? Or do I take a chance and walk? 
Do I take the shortcut where I’ll be exposed to a common and well-known local flasher’s genitals?
Everywhere I go in the city, I’m exposed to leering, rude comments, and like this instance, unwanted touching. Unfortunately, it appears that this group of men plan to also rape me too. 
Rough hands pinch my body as they grope and tear at my clothing. The rude commentary is low and heated but makes no sense, especially after one of them hits me in the head again. My ears ring with a high-pitched drone as they continue to entertain themselves.
I’ll be going back to the hospital—again. 
I’ve become desensitized to the horrible smells and uncomfortable care, but it looks like this will end there. I can barely keep my eyes open, and do I want to? 
Not really.
Giving in to the darkness, I drift into unconsciousness, thankful that I won’t remember anymore.

TWO WEEKS AGO
My skin tingles across my chest as I settle into my daily reflections at the beginning of the cycle. 
I’ve learned that in the past, Quasarians settled into daily reflections at the crack of dawn. They faced the rising sun at the beginning of the day, but since we’ve been an underground species for thousands of years, we no longer abide by the sun rising. 
I’m blind, so it wouldn’t have mattered that much to me, anyway.
Instead, I cross my legs and take a deep inhale, trying to relax and ignore the strange new sensation on my skin. I noticed it was beginning yesterday evening. A crawling, imperceptible change in my skin. 
So far, it’s only affected my torso, and I’ve run my fingers over it continually, thinking maybe I’m developing a rash. But it doesn’t itch… exactly. 
No. Instead, it’s a soft, fluttering prickle that doesn’t let up or stop. It’s only in certain areas that I can trace with my fingers, but equally on both sides, too. Exactly where I’m experiencing it on the left, I also feel it on the right. 
I thought about telling Helper Tracala, but at this point, I feel it’s unnecessary. 
It’d mean exposing myself to her, and for some reason, that doesn’t appeal to me. She’s been acting odd since beginning her assignment with me. I’ll give it a few more daily rotations before seeking feedback from one of the others who live in this area of the underground city with me. 
I’m one of the most fortunate here in our underground community since my mother is a religious leader and is known as the Sacred Mother. We’ve everything we could possibly need and much more than that. Since arriving on this planet thousands of years ago, we’ve remained beneath the surface in our many dwellings dug out efficiently by our technology to mimic the previous cities we abandoned.
Even though my mind is flitting through unwanted and unnecessary information, I’m caught off guard by a lightening in my vision. For the first time in my entire life, I understand the concept of the word “lighter.”
Instead of letting it distract me, I embrace this new tone, so different from the total darkness I’m accustomed to being surrounded by. 
Concentrating on the change, I relax and embrace the strange tingling floating across my skin, letting it lull me into a deeper trance. My breathing intensifies as a burst of light flickers and races across my vision. Over and over it falls in front of me, seeming to echo the waterfall in my chamber. 
The soothing sound of the water has always helped me settle deeper into my daily reflections, and this time is no different.
I let my mind drift, enjoying the pinpricks of lighter color I’ve never seen before as they cascade in my vision in tune with the water’s lulling beat.
“…shouldn’t have made it. We didn’t follow the prophecy… supposed to be Mihile…”
The mention of my name makes me concentrate on the droning voice I’m imagining. But as it continues, I can’t help wondering, am I imagining it? The cadence is identical to my mother’s. Even the phrasing as she pauses before continuing in a higher pitch…
“…sent the Sinth. They agreed to stop him. To make sure he never reaches the Ashen. Then, they didn’t even have the common courtesy to let us know how he made it or what went wrong…”
Another voice murmurs in response, and I’m shocked to realize that I recognize that voice too. It’s one of the council members who frequently comes to meet and confide in my mother. She sounds angry as she responds.
Could I actually be hearing their conversation?
How is that possible? It shouldn’t be—at all!
The stone walls around me are thick. Never, in my almost thirty annual rotations on the planet Quasar, deep in the ground and living with my mother, have I ever experienced being able to hear another conversation outside my room. 
Sure, my hearing is better than anyone else I know. Without the use of my eyes, I’ve been told that my other senses are better than average.
During the first ten annual rotations of my life, many doctors studied my eyes, trying to determine what disease could have caused the blindness I was afflicted with. But according to everyone and every test, there’s no disease. Nothing is lacking in my body or corrupted to such a degree that would make my vision as it is. 
Unfortunately, I just can’t see.
Hence, I’ve been blessed with exceptional hearing. Most of the people I’m surrounded by, I’ve known my entire life. As such, I know the way they walk and I’m able to identify them long before they announce themselves to me.
“…I agree. As much as it pains me to admit it, it must be done.”
My mother trails off as the voice of Vina Likana continues to complain. That female is never here to share good news or just celebrate the fine things that are going on in all our lives. No… her primary goal is always to complain. Usually with the ulterior motive of wanting something.
She’s discussing someone named Bren. I’ve never heard that name before. My mother’s voice is clearer to me as she responds.
“Yes, it can’t be allowed to continue. Proceed with initiative two as planned.”
“On all the crafts?” Vina Likana sounds surprised. Since I do not know what initiative two is, I imagine it’s something Vina wasn’t necessarily totally in agreement with. 
My mother’s response is firm and ends the conversation because I hear nothing after that. 
I still don’t understand how I could have heard anything at all.
Giving up on my reflections for the moment, I stand slowly, watching the flickering pinpoints of light dance in what appears to be just out of my reach. Taking a step forward, I listen to the water cascade down the stone wall, falling into a pool of water used for bathing. 
I’m fortunate to have one of the few waterfall bathing pools in the underground dwelling. 
As I begin to turn in a slow circle, I watch as the pinpoints of light stay in place where my waterfall continues to cascade down the wall. Instead, I notice two tones of black have formed around me. There are still some flickering pinpoints of light, but they’re moving slower or stationary altogether as they seem to outline the different shapes materializing around me. 
What exactly is going on? Could this be more than just my overactive imagination?
I can’t tell you the number of years and the number of times that medical professionals have studied me before announcing that, except for the strange coloring that’s exclusive to my eyes, I appear normal in every way. Normal, with absolutely no reason for the black veil that has shrouded me my entire life.
There was some discussion during my adolescence about me potentially gaining my sight at adolescence, but that never materialized. Now…now it appears I could actually be seeing… something…
Walking closer to what I know is a bench, I reach down and run my finger along the hard surface carved out of the wall of the cave that surrounds me. It’s somewhat deceitful when you know exactly where everything is… to tell whether the one hope you’ve harbored for your entire life could potentially be coming to pass. 
I know where everything is. Am I deceiving myself?
Turning around again, I look back at the wall of cascading light, dancing to the rhythm of the water sounds crashing into the pool. Releasing my robe, I let the material part and fall to the floor as I walk slowly to the stairs ten paces away. 
Sure enough, as I descend the stairs into the water, I notice the prickles of dancing light stirring around my feet, then my calves, and finally my waist. 
Covering the distance between the wall and myself, I let my fingers dip into the surface of the cascading water. I watch as the location my hand hovers in appears darker in my vision while the light coalesces around it, parting the water. 
This is definitely me! 
I can see!