Hunted by the Alien Pirate: Mates of the Kilgari

by Kyle, Celia

  Once the women appear settled, Montier and I turn to take our leave. We’re just about to exit the mess when I’m approached by the woman I’d spoken to when I’d arrived at the auction. I’m glad to see her. Under the lights of the mess hall, she looks healthier than I’d originally thought.

  “I just wanted to thank you for taking us with you, Fiona. It’s very admirable,” she says. “My name is Alia, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to tell you back on Perseus.”

  “It does me well to see you, Alia. I’m so glad you’re here and safe. Please, make yourself comfortable. Eat as much as you like. Marion will ensure you have a comfortable place to sleep until we can get you planet-side again. As the Queen’s navigation officer, I’m on my way to the bridge right now to determine our next port of call,” I say.

  “Really? You’re part of the crew?” she asks, eyes wide.

  “I am. It’s only a recent change, but yes.”

  “Will you… will you allow me to accompany you to see the captain? I have some information that might be useful to you all, and I feel he should hear it,” Alia says.

  I turn to Montier, unsure of the protocol regarding non-crew members on the bridge.

  “Would she be permitted?” I ask.

  “I don’t see why not. It’s not typical, but it’s Solair’s call to make,” he says.

  He’s right. I take Montier’s hand in mine and Alia follows us up to the bridge, trailing behind in silence.

  When we arrive, I don’t let go of Montier’s hand. I’m aware that everyone already knows we’re jalshagars, but this is the first opportunity we’ve had to present ourselves as a cohesive unit and I’m not going to miss it.

  Solair and Varia are already present, as well as Swipt, Ilya, and Grantian. Swipt immediately abandons his seat, handing the controls over to Ilya, and approaches me at a fast pace. I barely have time to brace for the impact when he crashes into me, like an overgrown puppy who missed his master.

  “It’s so good to see you, Fiona. I’m so glad you’re okay!” he exclaims.

  He gives me a solid hug but pulls away quickly when he hears a low growl coming from the back of Montier’s throat. Laughing, he punches my mate lightly on the shoulder.

  “Calm down, Monty. I’ve a jalshagar of my own. You were at our mating ceremony, remember?” he jokes.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes at the two of them.

  “Forgive me if I’m a little on edge. You know how it is,” Montier says, but his tone is light.

  “Who’s your friend?” Solair asks, noticing Alia standing behind us.

  I introduce her formally and inform the captain that she mentioned she has some information we might find valuable before allowing her to speak for herself. She nervously clears her throat before she begins to speak, but when she does, her voice is clear and strong.

  “When Fiona arrived at the auction house, she and I were chained together. Naturally, we got to talking and she told me how she ended up living and working on a Kilgari pirate vessel. I know all about her experience aboard the Frontier and how she’d been arrested by the IHC based on what she told me. I thought you might want to know that I too, was captured by IHC operatives.”

  It’s the last thing I expected her to say. All I can do is stare at her in response, completely stunned into silence.

  Chapter Thirty

  Montier

  After the initial shock of Alia’s bombshell proclamation fades, the stunned silence on the bridge gives way to a rush of voices as everyone attempts to speak at once.

  “Preposterous,” Grantian slams his fist down on his console. “We’re being scammed.”

  “What do you mean you were abducted by the IHC?”

  “Another one? Are there any human women in the galaxy who HAVEN’T been abducted by the IHC at this point?”

  “How far does this conspiracy go?”

  Poor Alia seems frightened by the sudden, intense scrutiny and barrage of questions. Fortunately, our captain asserts himself before things go too far.

  Solair sucks in a great rush of air through his nostrils and then bellows at the top of his lungs.

  “Quiet.”

  Even his jalshagar, Varia, stares at him in surprise. Solair grins quickly enough to remove some of the venom from his outburst.

  “Sorry, but I had to step in before it got louder than the trading floor at the Galactic Exchange on Novaria.” He holds his hands up for emphasis. “First, I need Montier and Fiona to count up our take from this heist…”

  “More like a caper, Cap’n,” Swipt interjects.

  “No, definitely a heist, we absconded with cash and merchandise, even if we intend to set the latter free.”

  “Now wait a second, Solair.” I gesture at myself and Fiona. “I’m just as eager to hear Alia’s story as the rest of you, and Fiona is directly involved in this plot. Why do we have to count?”

  “You can count and listen at the same time.”

  Solair gestures at the sacks, bins, and boxes filled with credsticks as well as hard currency.

  Fiona and I look at each other and shrug helplessly. He’s right, though. We can probably do both and it’s important for us to figure out where we stand financially.

  So we bend ourselves to the task as Solair gives up his seat Alia, which is just the kind of man he is.

  “Please sit, Miss Alia, and tell us your story. I’ll try not to let anyone crawl up your nose.”

  “Thank you.” She seats herself and folds her hands in her lap.

  “Now, how do you know it was the IHC who captured you?”

  Alia sighs and shakes her head slightly.

  “It all seemed like just a silly mistake, a clerical error. I am—or was, as the case may be—employed as a loan agent at Vasper and Sons Bank on Lorem, and the security officer showed up to serve me with a warrant for my arrest right in the middle of my shift.”

  “They got you on trumped-up charges, too?”

  “Ilya, please, let her continue.” Solair nods toward Alia. “You were saying? They arrested you with what seemed a legit warrant?”

  “Yes, but even the cop himself seemed to be confused. You see, he was a patron of the bank and while we weren’t exactly friends, he knew I wasn’t the type to be a terrorist. My boyfriend left his job early so he could scrape up my insanely high bail, but then a pair of men dressed like IHC marines arrived at my holding cell and informed me I was being transferred due to overcrowding.”

  She smiles ruefully, and her voice takes on a bitter tone.

  “I was the sole occupant of the jail that day.” Alia looks up at Solair, trouble swimming in her large eyes. “That was suspicious enough, but then it got very weird.”

  “Weird?” Solair speaks at length when she falls silent again. “How so?”

  “Well, they didn’t take me out through the front gate like you would expect. They slapped handcuffs on me, like I was a violent criminal, and then shoved a hood over my head. Then I got stuffed into what I believe was a laundry cart and rolled out through a rear exit.”

  Her eyes narrow to slits, and her next words come out from behind clenched teeth.

  “Then I felt one of them…groping me through the canvas sides of the laundry basket. ‘Is that your ass, baby?’ he asked and then jabbed me with what I assume was a needle containing a sedative.”

  “That’s awful.” Varia puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You must have been frightened.”

  “I was terrified, especially when I grew groggy because I had no idea what they’d drugged me with at the time. My mixed ancestry throws my biochemistry off from the norm, so chemical compounds might not affect me like they would a pure strain human.”

  “Mixed ancestry?” Solair arches an eyebrow.

  “Yes, my paternal grandfather was Alzhon.”

  I look up from the pile of credsticks I’m trying to wrangle and gape.

  “Alzhons and humans can breed?”

  “Yes, of course they can.” Alia frowns
at me as if I’ve said something vaguely insulting.

  “The Precursors say all were one and shall be again someday.” Solair strokes his chin, and again prompts Alia. “Please, continue Miss Alia. I know it’s difficult.”

  “I’m fine, Captain. Finally telling someone about it feels…not good, but like a relief.” Her gaze grows distant, and her voice is strained when she speaks again. “My next recollections are of waking up and smelling a strong scent of medicine. When I opened my eyes, I discovered I was strapped to an exam table with electrodes attached all over my head. They were conducting tests on me.”

  “Did they say why they were testing you? What were they looking for?”

  “I’m not sure what they wanted out of me. Some of the tests weren’t so bad. They showed me ink blots on a page and asked me to describe them. Other times they took samples, blood, saliva, tissue…”

  She shudders.

  “—that was the worst because they took them from the lining of my lungs. They punched a long needle between my ribs.”

  Alia clutches at her side in remembered agony. Varia looks as if she’s about to cry as she massages the woman’s shoulder.

  “Eventually, they said I wasn’t any good for their purposes, but I might be able to be bred. I didn’t like the sound of that, but then they rejected me for that purpose as well, perhaps because of my mixed ancestry.”

  “What happened after that?” Solair leans back on the support rail behind him and fixes Alia with a patient gaze.

  “One day a pair of heavily armed men arrived and took custody of me and some of the other subjects who were deemed unfit for further testing. They loaded us into the cramped cargo hold of their F-class star ship and, after a few stops, deposited us at the auction house on Perseus.”

  Varia clears her throat, and Alia turns to meet her gaze.

  “Alia, do you remember anything about the men that might identify them? Uniforms, an accent, anything?”

  “No, not really.” Her face scrunches up in thought. “Wait, there was something. They all wore this badge, a-a jet black fist clutching what looked like a yellow globe of fire.”

  Grantian gasps and takes a half step forward. He borrows a tablet from Solair’s console and taps on it for a few moments. Then he turns the screen toward Alia, which means Fiona and I can’t see it.

  “Alia, is this the insignia you remember?”

  Her eyes widen and she taps the screen.

  “Yes, that’s it, exactly.”

  Grantian grimaces.

  “The Star Crushers.”

  Solair bites his lower lip and shakes his head.

  “Shit.”

  Fiona sets down the stack of coins she was counting and taps me on the shoulder.

  “What are the Star Crushers?”

  “Mercenaries, like the Hounds but without their code of honor. Nasty bunch and tougher than a blue dwarf’s core.”

  “Alia, you said they made a few stops on the way.” Solair leans down so he can meet her gaze. “Can you recall anything about those stops that might reveal a clue as to where you were?”

  “We were kept in the cargo hold the whole time, but during one of the stops we could hear this long, heavy sound, like a factory whistle but more…percussion, if that makes any sense at all.”

  Grantian and Solair exchange glances.

  “The harbor whistle at M’Kal’s Capital Dock.”

  Grantian nods.

  “The Crushers have their main base there as well. Can’t be coincidence.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Solair.” I stand up, holding the tablet with the tally on it like a trophy. “But I thought you might want to hear the grand total.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Thirteen point two million credits.”

  Solair laughs and shakes his head. He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Okay, good rib, Montier. What’s the real total? About ten percent of that?”

  I look at him blankly.

  “That is the real total.”

  “Wow.” Everyone is too stunned to even celebrate. That’s enough creds to finish our retrofit, stock up our supplies for the next year, and make even the greenest deck hand with the smallest percentage a wealthy man.

  “What’s our next move?” Trust Varia to have practical concerns at heart.

  “Our next move? We set course for M’Kal.”

  Looks like we’re one step closer to untangling this mystery.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Fiona

  “What? No flower pots? No curtains?” Leaning against the doorway, Montier watches as I amble down the corridor, a tiny cardboard box in my arms. He takes it from me and then waves me inside his quarters. Or, shall I say, our quarters?

  “No use in having curtains inside a spaceship,” I reply, laughing as I close the door behind us. “As for the flower pots, they’ll come later. In case you haven’t noticed, none of the girls have much in the way of possessions. We’re all minimalists here.”

  “We’ll see how long that lasts.” Putting the box on the bedside table, no more than a sterile monolith that’s been bolted to the bulkhead, he turns to look at me and smiles. “You are all extremely wealthy now, remember? You have more than enough money to build a small garden inside the Queen. You can buy all the flowers you want.”

  “Flowers?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I tap my foot against the floor. “There are more urgent things we need to buy, Montier. Like clothes. And maybe some perfumes and jewelry. It’s been ages since I’ve dolled myself up.”

  “Well, you still have that auction outfit…”

  “I do.” Winking, I return his teasing smile. “You told me you liked it. I had to keep it.”

  “Well, welcome home,” he continues, waving one hand at the four walls around us. There’s a small bed attached to the bulkhead, a terminal embedded on the wall, and that spartan bedside table. Aside from that, the room is completely bare. “It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  Truth be told, I’d be perfectly content to share some lousy tent with Montier. I don’t really care about being comfortable. Just as long as we’re together, I’m happy. Besides, his room isn’t that bad. There isn’t a lot of furniture or décor, but those are easy fixes. All we need is a quick trip to some planet’s surface market, and I’ll turn this room into something worthy of a palace.

  Sitting down on the bed, I rummage through the contents of my box and fish out the tablet. I cross my legs, lean back against the wall, and immediately start scrolling through the dozens of nav charts and technical guides I downloaded.

  “Don’t you ever take a break?” Sitting beside me, Montier cocks one eyebrow up. “I mean, you’ve just moved in.”

  “I just want to make sure I do a good job on the bridge,” I reply, looking away from the screen. “I think I’m decent at it, but being the nav guide here…well, it’s one hell of a responsibility, and I don’t want to let people down. I’ve devised a study plan so I can brush up on a lot of different things, especially orbit trajectories in the empty quadrants stretching from League borders to—”

  “Alright, alright.” Laughing, he places one hand on my knee. “I get it. You want to do a good job. I wouldn’t worry if I were you, though. You’re one of the brightest people aboard this ship, and I’m absolutely certain you’re going to do a stellar job at it. There’s no one I’d rather have handling nav now that Lokyer isn’t around.”

  “Flattery will get you anywhere,” I say, and then I join him in laughter. “Seriously, though. I’m just worried about M’Kal. We have no idea what we’re going to find there, so I want to make sure that at least the nav charts won’t be a problem. Then there’s that Star Crushers thing. Grantian seemed worried about that.”

  “I think he has reason to be.” Pursing his lips, he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, and only then does he continue. “He told me that the Star Crushers are much more ruthless than his former team at the Hel
l Hounds ever was. And the Hell Hounds are pretty ruthless when they have to be.”

  “Great.” Sighing, I run one hand through my hair. “More murderous fanatics. Aren’t the Kraaj enough?”

  “We just have to be more vigilant. Despite our lack of preparation, despite the fact that we’re not a proper military vessel…we’ve always managed to hold our own, even when facing terrible odds. The Star Crushers will just be one more challenge for us to overcome.” Turning his whole body so he’s facing me, he allows a smile to spread across his lips. “Besides, you have me. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Oh, alright, Mr. Big Muscles.” Laughing, I put one hand on his bicep and give it a hard squeeze. “I feel much safer now that I know you’ll have my back.”

  “I might have more than just your back.”

  “That sounds—”

  “Promising? Definitely.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be the quiet type?” Reaching up, I brush my thumb over his lips. The moment I touch them, a shiver runs down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve been together. It’s always an electric rush. “Why doesn’t your mouth stop moving? I mean, there are so many other interesting things you could do with these lips instead of talking. Surely you can—”

  Moving fast, he closes the distance between us and lays his lips against mine. He places one hand on the nape of my neck and then threads his fingers in my hair. He kisses me gently, the tip of his tongue running across the gap between my lips.

  “Is this what you meant?” he asks, never taking his lips off of mine. Cupping his face with both my hands, I rest my forehead against his and smile, my heart beating at a thousand miles per hour. By now, all the files I had been reading are long forgotten, the tablet tumbling down from the mattress to the floor.

  “I think this works, yeah,” I finally reply, and then I change gears and up the ante. My tongue starts dancing around his, and I keep on going until that dance becomes a wrestling match, our kiss succumbing to frenzied lust.