The Mad Lieutenant: The Lost Planet Series, Book Three

by Webster, K

  She’s so loud.

  The constant buzz inside my nog is silenced because her unusual, boisterous voice drowns it out. She’s no longer naked but instead now wears a minnasuit that is tight on her chest. I’m struck, staring at how the material seems to hug her breasts. It’s then I realize both Oz and Galen are admiring her there, too.

  Molly needs friends, not five morts hovering over her just waiting for her to bend over so they can spurt their seed in her.

  A growl of protectiveness bellows from me, yanking all their attention my way. The cool, open air of the doorway behind me keeps me calm. With the most threatening glare I can muster, I tell Oz and Galen wordlessly to back off.

  She’s mine.

  The thought has me pausing.

  I don’t want her for a mate.

  I simply want to protect her from those who want to mate with her.

  “Leave,” I bark out. I am second-in-command at the facility, and I’m not afraid to use my position over them.

  Sayer snorts, and Molly lets out a huff.

  “Rude much?” she grumbles.

  Snapping my eyes to hers, I check her over to make sure she is not distressed. If anything, she looks fairly comfortable. Far more comfortable than Emery or Aria ever were. Her brown eyes assess me with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

  Not fear.

  Not like earlier when I inadvertently let her out of her cryotube.

  “I was just bringing her a gift,” Galen says as he sets down a bag filled with what I know are goldenroot candies.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  One by one, my sub-bones crack in my neck as I rise to my full, intimidating height. I have twenty-eight sub-bones, and I crack them slowly, my eyes full of fury as I glower at Galen. My ears flatten so tight against my nog I can hardly hear anything besides the burning rage roaring inside me.

  Goldenroot candies are something he created for the humans. For when Breccan was trying to please his mate. Is Galen trying to please Molly?

  Galen slinks away wisely, but Oz’s attention is still on Molly. He holds out a zuta-metal necklace. Another gift the female aliens are known to enjoy.

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Oz nearly trips over his own feet when he realizes I’m approaching and snarling. Our eyes meet as my final sub-bone cracks into place.

  Pop.

  “We were just leaving,” Galen says, grabbing Oz’s arm and dragging him away.

  Turning my body, I shoot my vicious stare at Sayer. Instead of scrambling away, he grins at me.

  “We were just explaining to Molly about our planet’s future. Our race’s future.”

  “Leave,” I bellow.

  The piece of rogshite doesn’t flinch a muscle. “I’m not a threat, Draven. I don’t want to mate with Molly.”

  Molly.

  Finally, my attention turns back to her. Her brown eyes twinkle with amusement, and then she starts laughing. Laughing and laughing. And laughing.

  I blink at her in confusion.

  Maybe I found another being on this retched planet who’s just as mad as me.

  And as much as that should terrify me, it doesn’t.

  Rekk, why doesn’t it?

  She’s mine.

  I don’t want to mate with her!

  But protecting her gives me a feeling of purpose. Something I haven’t felt in more revolutions than I can remember. I will keep her safe from Oz and Galen. And that empty-nog Hadrian. Avrell is no threat to me, even though I am sure he would love to have a mate. But Theron is. He’s the one who procured these females in the first place. He may think he has ownership over my Molly.

  Over my dead rekking body.

  3

  Molly

  At Draven’s harsh words, the rest of my visitors exit the door, leaving me alone with the imposing alien who still looks as though he’d like to eat me alive. Being someone’s dinner is most definitely not on my bucket list.

  “You didn’t have to scare them away,” I chastise. “We were just getting to know each other.”

  His nostrils flare, and his neck cracks ominously. “You have no need to get to know them,” he answers.

  “Oh, honey,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand, “I may have been brought here against my will, but that don’t mean I have to be inhospitable. That’s just bad manners. Besides, aside from you, the other aliens have been downright gentlemen.”

  “Morts are not gentle,” he growls. “And you are the alien.”

  I hold the curious necklace the one named Oz gave me out for inspection. I’ve always had an affinity for pretty things. Gesturing to Draven, I say, “Isn’t this just darling?” Sounds of pleasure escape my chest. “The others have been explaining to me about how I ended up here. I have to say, I was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs at first, let me tell you. I mean, you have to agree it was a shock.” I chuckle a little as I turn the necklace this way and that. “I think we both may have given each other quite a scare. I may still be a little out of it, but I pinched myself hard enough to give me a heck of a bruise, so I guess it can’t be a nightmare.” I’m babbling, I always babble, but I can’t seem to stop. “Sayer explained about your race and the disease. I just can’t even imagine. Bless your hearts.”

  “Sayer explained,” Draven says through gritted teeth, “about needing a mate?”

  I lift a shoulder dismissively and clasp the necklace around my neck. “He did. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it all yet. How could I? But they were very kind. Is this candy?” Before he can answer, I pop one into my mouth. The sugar-sweetness bursts over my tongue, causing me to make a sound of pleasure. “Mmmm! This is just like butterscotch. Well, don’t that just beat all?”

  “What else did they explain about mates?” Draven takes a step closer. I eye him warily. I haven’t quite decided if he’s dangerous or not. He doesn’t seem as unstable as he did when we first met, but there’s still a wild energy around him that reminds me of an untamed animal—like the first provocation will send him nipping and kicking at anyone in his immediate vicinity. I’d rather not be there when that happens.

  “Sayer and Jareth brought me to the sub-faction—Is that the right term?—Anyway, they told me how you are the last of your kind, that you found me and the others, and have decided to take us as mates among you. How does that work—exactly? Are we assigned one of you?” My tone is blithe and uncaring. Better to get the harsh realities over with as soon as possible, so I can deal with them. I’ve never quite been in this situation, but I’ve dealt with life-altering changes before, and I will deal with this, too.

  I have to.

  As I wait for his answer, I begin to hum another tune. This one is “I Walk the Line” by Johnny Cash. Draven reminds me a bit of Johnny Cash. Rough around the edges. A rule-breaker. If his scars and brash demeanor are any indication, he’s not the gift-giving kind like the others. Not that it matters. I haven’t decided which alien I’ll let woo me, for now, but Draven doesn’t seem like the mating sort.

  The sliding door behind him opens, and another alien—one I haven’t met yet—walks through, his pace brisk and no-nonsense. He’s draped in a thin gown over his suit—like the one I’m wearing—except his is covered in smears of blood. Draven snaps to attention, his ears flattening, and long, dangerous looking claws extend from his massive hands.

  “Aria?” Draven barks at the newcomer.

  With a sigh of relief the other alien says, “She’s well. All is well. Their son is also. They’ve named him Sokko, after Breccan’s father.”

  I freeze, the butterscotch-like candy sticking in my throat. My tongue seems to have swollen in size, and I wonder if I’ll choke on them both. The two aliens don’t seem to notice my distress.

  “A son,” Draven says, almost breathlessly. “A son.”

  A baby. There’s a baby here.

  “Yes, it’s incredible. But fi
rst, Breccan was wondering what the alarms were earlier. He sent me to check. Is everything—”

  It’s then he notices me. I lift a hand in welcome, swallowing the last of the candy, even though it scratches my throat on the way down. “Hey there,” I say with what I hope is a friendly smile. “I’m Molly.”

  “Mortarekker,” the new alien says. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands of Draven. “Breccan will have your nog for waking a female early. We were supposed to wait until Calix returned to run more tests. Aria’s delivery was successful, but we still don’t know if that will always be the case. How could you be so reckless?”

  As the other alien berates Draven, I watch as Draven’s ears press closer and closer to his skull. The slits of his eyes pinch closed until only the barest glint of black is visible. I’m reminded of a puppy I once owned when I was a girl. The poor dear had been abused by her previous owner, and even though she was only a few months old, she’d already learned to make herself as small as possible whenever she encountered loud sounds. What had happened to Draven to make him react the same way?

  I launch myself to my feet and across the room before I know what I’m doing. “It wasn’t his fault!” I interrupt. “The other ones—Sayer and Jareth—they told me a magna-something hit the building and fried the thingy I was in. It made it malfunction, and Draven saved me.” Save is a loose interpretation of what he did, and I expect him to interject, but he’s quiet behind me. I can feel the waves of anxious energy buffeting against my back. He’s practically vibrating. “It wasn’t his fault,” I repeat firmly.

  The alien in front of me purses his lips. Despite his harsh words toward Draven, he doesn’t seem like the malicious type. His eyes—black though they are—seem kind. His fangs aren’t sharp and imposing like the others, they’ve been filed down to look somewhat normal. He holds up a hand, which I clasp with my own, and gives me a benevolent smile.

  “Forgive me,” he says, “I did not mean to frighten you. My name is Avrell. I’m what you would call a doctor here at the facility. You’re…Molly, you said?”

  My shoulders slump in relief. “That’s right.”

  “Why don’t you come with me? Breccan and Aria could use some time to bond with their mortling before the others demand to shower them with well wishes. While they rest, I should do some tests on you.” At my horrified look, Avrell hurries to explain, “Don’t worry, standard procedure. Since your cryotube was damaged, we’d be remiss to neglect an exam. If you’ll follow me.” He gestures to the doorway he came through.

  I hesitate. “Do you mind if Draven comes with me?” The only reason I manage to lock my arm around Draven’s before he can escape is because I catch him off guard. Any one of the other guys would throw themselves at my feet to go with me, but Draven is the only one who would rather be anywhere else—which is exactly why I want him. As much as I enjoy their attention, Draven won’t expect anything from me. In fact, I can guarantee that as soon as he’s able, he’ll be running in the other direction.

  And I’m counting on it.

  ***

  I hiss as Avrell helps me onto the cool surface of the table. My eyes are clenched tightly. “How long will it take?” I ask, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. It’s not the cold that’s making me shiver. It’s fear. Fear worse than waking up in a strange place, trapped.

  “We implanted all the females once we transferred them safely to the facility,” Avrell explains. Am I mistaken or was there a thread of apology in his voice?

  “Did—” I grit my teeth, then force myself to calm down. “Did any of them take?” Please say no. Please say no. I’ll worry about the injustice of being implanted against my will later. Can’t think about that now.

  There’s a pause punctuated by the sound of fingers against a keyboard, then I feel the blunt head of some sort of scanner against the lower portion of my belly. Avrell had me change into a thin gown for the general health exam—which I passed with flying colors—then he had me sit on an exam table with a blanket on my lap with the gown pulled up over my belly.

  “I apologize for this dated technology, but the wegloscan is under maintenance. Oz is adding some new features to it,” Avrell mutters. “For now, we must run this test the old way.”

  Weglo-what?

  As he continues, I try not to think about Draven staring at me in such a vulnerable position. He’d come with me to Avrell’s office and exam room—grudgingly. The moment we’d stepped over the threshold, he’d taken up residence in a corner of the room, crossed his arms over his chest, and hadn’t stopped glowering since.

  “Did any of them take?” I ask again, my voice growing shrill.

  “We’re not certain,” Avrell finally answers. “The first embryo we implanted in Aria, Commander Breccan’s mate, didn’t take,” Avrell continues as he positions the wand in different locations on my stomach. “We’re still not sure why. Propagating a species, even same species, is a delicate process. Cross-species, well, I’m not going to say it’s impossible, but it takes time.”

  “But I thought you said they just had a baby?” My throat closes around the word.

  “They did, but their mortling was conceived—ah, in the more conventional sense.”

  My cheeks burn even though my eyes are closed. “Right! Well, of course.” So, if I wasn’t pregnant, I was going to have to have sex with one of them. No wonder they were all giving me gifts. In the abstract sense, I understood what they’d meant when they said they wanted me as a mate. It just didn’t sink in until now.

  Next to me, Avrell gives a disappointed sigh. Unbidden, my eyes fly open and my gaze darts to the screen. The visual there isn’t that much different from the ultrasounds where I’m from, and it doesn’t take a doctor like Avrell to tell me what I already know.

  I’m not pregnant.

  For some reason, I glance in Draven’s direction. He’s also studying the screen with an intensity that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. What is he thinking about? Then his gaze meets mine.

  I don’t need fancy gifts from Draven.

  All it takes is a look.

  The raw emotion in his eyes reaches down deep inside me where I’m empty and wanting, taking root.

  He shakes his head, taking a step back. I know he feels it, whatever it is, because he meets my gaze once more then shakes his head again, slowly. Whatever he sees in my expression, he’s telling me no.

  “No matter,” Avrell says blithely. “Like I said, it’s a delicate process. This will give us time to test your compatibility with each mort and find the best viable candidate. We really should have done this with the others, but circumstances being what they were, we never got the chance.” Avrell looks up from the screen where he is recording data and finds Draven staring at me. “Oh,” Avrell says.

  “Doctor,” I say, turning to Avrell, who is glancing back and forth between Draven and me with a frown pulling at his lips. “Wouldn’t you say reproduction is more successful with willing mates? In humans, it’s been beneficial for the couple to be in a happy, healthy relationship before procreating. Don’t you think the same would be true in our case?”

  “I—don’t follow,” Avrell says haltingly.

  “If I’m going to be required to have a mate, to give them a child, don’t you think it’s only fair that I get a say in the matter?”

  Avrell leans forward, panic in his eyes. “Now, Molly, the science of it all—”

  “I don’t give a fig about science. You brought me here against my will. I recognize your position, but it was against my will,” I say before he can object. “Successful conception would be more easily attained if I were on board with the whole thing. A willing mate, if you catch my drift. Either you let me pick my mate, or I’ll do everything in my power to thwart your attempts.”

  My shoulders heave from how hard I’m breathing. Avrell looks as though he wants to throw his fancy clipboard and wand-scanner into the air. Draven hasn’t looked at me since I announced I wanted to choose my
own mate.

  “I’m fearing we may have gotten ourselves in over our nogs,” Avrell says, and relief fills me at the humor in his voice. “Who knew aliens would be so much trouble?”

  “So, we have a deal?”

  Avrell sighs. “I’m willing to propose the option to the commander. Did you have a mate in mind?”

  I meet Draven’s eyes and nod in his direction. “Him.”

  4

  Draven

  I rekking think not!

  My panicked eyes leave the alien, who seems so sure of her choice... Of all morts, she chose me. The broken one. The damaged one. The one The Rades nearly destroyed. I find Avrell frowning at me. He’s disappointed in her choice. Probably because he wishes she chose him.

  Unwanted images of him with his filed down teeth near her golden flesh has a growl of warning rumbling from me. I clutch onto a table to keep from doing something horrible like rip his rekking throat out.

  Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink!

  I stare down in confusion as I realize my claws have punctured the zuta-metal table in my fury. When I snap my stare up to Avrell, his expression has changed. The disappointment is gone, and determination has settled in his black orbs.

  Does he want to challenge me?

  Before I can unhook myself from the table, he holds his palms up.

  “Stand down, Lieutenant,” he says in a calm voice that usually works to get my mind sorted. “Aria wants the female aliens to have choices. This is her choice.”

  I’m drawn back to the brown eyes of Molly. She, too, wears determination in her expression. Something sad flickers in her stare, but she quickly masks it with a bright smile.