Corsairs: Adiron: Corsair Brothers Book 1

by Dixon, Ruby

  Well, no, now I'm just making excuses. Most treat us like simpletons or fucktoys. I've had my tits grabbed a dozen times. I had one stick his finger in my mouth and demanded for me to suck on it. I've had my ass pinched, my face slapped, and I've been groped…but no one's ever gave me the shirt off their back so I could cover up.

  "Airing out the room," Ruth calls. "Give me a minute and then you guys can go in."

  I shake my head. "Those men can wait. They're out for now, so they don't pose a problem. We need to figure out who's still left on that ship and how we handle them." Once we know we're safe, we'll tie up the drugged men and send them away on an escape pod that's programmed to find the nearest station…which is weeks away, or so I'm told. It's our way of getting rid of the men without killing anyone. I don't know if they remember us at all, but no one ever comes back for seconds, so I'm confident our plan works.

  But we've never had nine men to tie up, plus more on the other ship. I don't know how they're all going to fit on one of the Star's escape pods, which hold six. Two pods, perhaps? It's twice the work, though. I think about this, and I pace a bit more. And more.

  "Slave girl schtick or guns?" Alice asks, all business as the doors to the trap-room open up. Helen hits the release on her pod and sits up, a grin on her face as the blonde moves through the room, pulling weapons off the men.

  I do the same, heading for Shirtless. Not because he was nice to me and I want to check his pulse, but because he had a big honking weapon strapped to his belt. I brush my fingers over his neck anyhow and find that his pulse is strong, if slow. Good. I pull out his blaster…and it's a different make than I'm used to. I have no idea how to operate it. I set it aside and turn to look at the next man. "How are you on guns, Alice?"

  She picks one up and arms it, the pistol-like weapon whining as it comes online. "I think I'm good. I—"

  "Guys?" Ruth's voice is urgent. "I'm getting a weird reading from the other ship."

  "Are they firing on us?" I yell up at her, a cold prickle of fear moving through my system.

  "I don't know what it is. I've never seen it before. It's a charge of some kind—"

  That's the last thing I hear before an electrical rush courses through the Star, hitting me like static electricity and knocking me flat. My hair sticks straight up, and the wind is knocked out of me.

  And I can't move a muscle.

  Fuck.

  12

  ADIRON

  I wake up with a slap to the cheek. My head pounds, and I've got an awful taste in my mouth. Blearily, I peer up at my oldest brother, Mathiras. "Why'd you hit me?"

  "I need you to roll over." He pulls out a nasty-looking syringe. "You need a shot to counteract the gas you inhaled."

  "I inhaled gas?" My memory's a blur, but I roll over. A moment later, I frown at him as my ass cheek stings. "I think you had too much fun doing that."

  "I think you're right. You deserve it," Mathiras says, a disgusted note in his voice.

  I do? I rub my ass once he walks away, noticing that Kaspar's laid out on a nearby med-bay bed, probably in the same situation as me. Heat burns through my veins, and I wonder what happened. I sit up, noticing that I'm without my tunic…and then memories creep in, filling in the fuzzy blanks in my mind.

  A qura'aki. A trap. Jade.

  I hop up from the med-bay table, and I can't help but notice that we're back on The Darkened Eye, not the Buoyant Star. Mathiras and his crew must have retrieved us from the other ship and brought us to med-bay. I look around and Dopekh and a few of the other clones are rubbing their faces, wearing bleary expressions. I count heads. Everyone's here, even Lord Straik, who rubs his red eyes and looks as if he wants to murder someone.

  Probably does. That means I have to get to Jade first.

  I storm out of the med-bay, ignoring Mathiras's sound of protest and the curious clones still in uniform who look up when I bust out of the room. I head down the hall, my skin still tingling from a reaction to the shot. I scratch at my chest and look around the Eye, trying to figure out where prisoners would be taken.

  Ten credits says that Straik has a brig. He's pompous enough.

  I turn to the a'ani at the end of the hall—Kaje, I think his name is—and try to sound authoritative. "Where's the brig?"

  He tilts his head. "Head to the right and go down a floor."

  Knew it.

  I race down the floor, slapping the elevator's controls. I want to get there before Mathiras can stop me. Not that I think he will, it's just…I want to talk to Jade. Say hello to her. Let her know that she doesn't have to be afraid, because I'm not going to let anything happen to her. That no matter what happens, I'll make sure she's all right. All of the humans will be, I mentally tell myself, because Zoey and Sophie would want that. Kaspar and Mathiras will probably be on the same page as me when it comes to the humans, but I don't know Straik well enough to guess. And Mathiras is gonna be in a bad mood because we were tricked. He's going to stomp his feet for a while and wear his “disappointed brother” look and tell me that I shouldn't give my tunic to the enemy or get myself shut into a room because I gawked at a qura'aki. I know all these things. Everyone does. We just got distracted by a few pretty faces.

  Which, I suspect, is exactly what Jade and her friends were hoping. Show off the qura'aki, jiggle their tits, and when the males are good and distracted, take 'em out. I mean, we fell for it, so it's not like it's an ineffective plan. The rare qura'aki is what clinches it. Even someone as scowly and dismal as Straik fell for that one. I wonder how many ships they've robbed along the way. Ten? Twenty? A distress signal is one of the oldest tricks in the book, of course, but they've added a fine twist.

  Oh man, Zoey is going to laugh so hard when she hears this.

  Then I sober, because I think Zoey might like Jade. That's important to me, because I plan on keeping Jade. Not as a slave, of course. As my female. My mate. Jade doesn't know it yet, but she's stuck with the dumbest keffer in this system…which doesn't say much, because this system is pretty deserted.

  I make my way to the elevator and down a floor. Sure enough, the moment I step off the elevator, I see another a'ani guarding one set of doors. He's wearing a breather, too, the shiny nose-clip preventing him from the same situation we were in. Smart.

  I saunter up like I know what the kef I'm doing, and scratch at my chest again. Everything itches. It's miserable. I glance down and notice that I'm breaking out in welts. I might be allergic to something. Ah well. It'll go away soon enough. I scratch at my skin again and nod at the big double doors at the far end of the hall, the ones that aren't guarded. "What's down there, Basch? Janitorial?"

  He frowns at me with those mobile eyebrows, just like the humans have. Like my sister Zoey, he's able to pull off the “Are you keffing stupid?” look with ease. "It's the cargo bay."

  "Right." I gesture at the doors in front of him. "And in here are the prisoners?"

  The a'ani nods.

  "Great. I need to go in and talk to them. Don't shoot me, all right?" I grin at him and head in like Straik and Mathiras totally sent me down here.

  I'm not entirely surprised when the a'ani steps aside and nods at me. That's one reason clones make great subordinates. They don't ask a lot of questions. I stand in place and put my hand on the pad, and the doors open up a moment later. Huh. I'm not locked out. Well, that makes things easy. I thought for sure Straik would revoke some of my clearances after the laundry stunt, but I guess not.

  With more than just a little swagger, I saunter into the prisoner hold.

  13

  ADIRON

  Lord Straik sa'Rin's prisoner hold isn't much like the cells I've been held in in the past. There's not a corsair in the universe that hasn't spent at least one night in jail, and most of mine involved being elbow-to-elbow with some grungy ooli or praxiian, jostling for space on a hard bench, and trying to catch a few hours of sleep on a filthy floor. Everyone would be wearing shock collars, and if you were lucky, there'd be a lav
atory of some kind. You'd be manacled to your fellow prisoners by your feet and there'd usually be a dead guy somewhere in the room, just because some idiot was bound to pick a fight he couldn't win.

  Oh, and the entire place would smell like sweaty balls. There's no smell quite like a jail smell…except for sweaty balls, I guess.

  This room smells like flowers.

  I wrinkle my nose as I walk in, because why the kef does a prisoner hold smell like flowers? I study the too-clean, pristine walls with nary a dent, and sure enough, there's a scent dispenser located near the ceiling. Well, that's just dumb. Some enterprising prisoner could climb up and disable it, and use the scented oil to blind or poison someone…provided they weren't cuffed, though. Cuffs are easy enough to get out of, if you know how. It's just more evidence that sa'Rin doesn't have the killer instinct that makes for a good corsair. He's far too pampered.

  This cell is the height of luxury, prison cell-wise. It's temperate and comfortable, and I'm almost surprised there isn't soft music being piped in along with the flower scent.

  In the harder jail cells, prisoners are given magnetic cuffs on their wrists (or legs) and then those cuffs are attached to a bar on the wall. There, the prisoners usually have their hands above their heads on the magnetic bar, their feet stuck to the second magnetic bar near the floor. It ensures that the prisoners won't try anything. In this pleasant room, the four females are seated in individual chairs, lined up neatly, and even though their hands are cuffed, they're comfortable.

  Looks more like a tea party than a keffing holding cell.

  "Did I miss snack time?" I joke as I saunter in. I scan all four females in front of me, saving the best for last. I'm pleased to see that no one looks hurt, at least. I don't like the thought of females—no matter how devious—getting abused by us. Humans are fragile—the qura'aki, doubly so. There's a tall, lean female with long black hair and a wide face. She's got a murderous scowl on her face and I'm guessing she's the one that was so delighted to gas us. Next to her sits the delicate qura'aki, who's very clearly awake. She jerks her hands in her cuffs, frowning as she tries to work her hands free. The little yellow-haired one that sobbed all over Kaspar is still wearing her skimpy outfit, and she lifts her chin defiantly when I look in her direction.

  And then I look at Jade. Jade, who I'm thrilled that I haven't forgotten, thanks to the antidote shot in my ass. Jade, who's still wearing my tunic. Jade, whose fluffy hair encircles her head like a dark nimbus, and who blinks those fascinating golden eyes at me. She's unafraid and utterly magnificent, her cuffed hands calmly in her lap.

  "If you're expecting an apology, you're not going to get one," Jade says calmly.

  "No, seriously," I tease. "I'm here for snacks. Did I miss the cheese tray?" I glance around and pretend to look disappointed as I scratch at my skin. "This is the nicest holding cell I've ever seen. You want me to ask if you guys can watch a vid? I bet we can arrange that."

  "Tell them to let us go," the dark-haired one says, defiant. She sits up straight in her chair, glaring at me like Zoey does when I take the last chski pickle. "We won't come along easily."

  I scratch at my head, pretending to be confused. "Didn't you guys just try to kill us?"

  This time, Jade gives me a look of exasperation. "No one's killing anyone. We were just trying to protect ourselves from invaders on our ship."

  The qura'aki looks confused. "I thought we were robbing them—"

  The dark-haired one kicks at the qura'aki's chair, and the lilac-haired one goes silent.

  I grin, deliberately letting my smile spread wide across my face because the females look infuriated. "I can guess which one of you is gonna be interrogated first, then."

  Jade lifts her chin, looking regal and beautiful. "Is that why you're here? To suss out which one of us you're going to rape and torture into telling you everything?"

  "Uh, no. Rape and torture?" I shake my head. "I can reassure you that we're not those kinds of pirates. And look around you." I gesture at the holding cell. "Shit, these quarters are better than mine. I might bunk down here with you guys instead of my brother. This is pretty nice." There's a bench along the wall and I sit down on it, stretching out and putting my hands behind my head. "I just came to say hello."

  The females shift, and as I pretend to be my lazy, indolent self, I watch as they all glance over at Jade. She's definitely the leader. I like that. She's got a quiet sort of authority to her, a calm presence that indicates she's smart and won't take any shit. Here I always thought I'd fall for someone more like my sister Zoey—a scrappy sort of female that gives as good as she can get.

  Instead, I'm obsessed with rounded human curves, defiant amber eyes, and a calm demeanor of control, even as a prisoner. Makes my cock hard as kef, but I don't point that out. Human females are skittish, and these four are probably terrified they're going to be murdered.

  Jade studies me with those calm, calculating eyes. I wait for her to address me, to offer a deal of some kind. To bargain. Not that I have the authority to make bargains with prisoners. I'm just along for the ride. But I recognize the look on her face—she's not about to give up, even though she's in chains. She watches me for a moment more and then shifts, sitting up.

  Here it comes. The bargain. I lean forward, eager to hear it.

  "What happened to your face?" she asks.

  "My face?"

  "You look like you fought a swarm of bees and lost," says the yellow-haired one.

  "Did you get into a fight with someone?" Jade asks. "You're swollen."

  I reach up and touch my face. Sure enough, around the nose ridges and brow ridges, my face is puffy and hot. I absently scratch at my skin. "I think I'm allergic to whatever gas you gave us."

  A flash of regret crosses Jade's face, and it fills me with glee. I knew she wasn't trying to hurt us. Knew it. But she settles back in her chair. "That's too bad. It was necessary, though."

  I shrug. "In the future, you'd be better off taking hostages and negotiating."

  She blinks at me. "What?"

  "You know, force us to come off the other ship and to you. Get everyone in one place. You had to know that we were going to leave someone on the other ship. That's just piracy basics." I gesture at them. "Next time, take someone hostage, demand that everyone else hand over their weapons and no one gets hurt, or something along those lines. I'd suggest Lord Straik next time. He's the one in the black clothes."

  Jade processes this, her expression thoughtful. "You can't negotiate with a ship-wide taser. That's something we'll need to consider in the future."

  I don't know what a taser is, but guessing how the humans have their hair floating around their heads like they were shot up with electricity, I can guess. Mathiras used Straik's weapon on the females. That's how they ended up here and captive. I don't know if I'm impressed that my brother pulled out the shock system immediately…or if I'm irked? Because that thing hurts like a son of a bitch, and I don't like the thought of Jade being hurt. I'm already strangely protective of her.

  She's just so…alone. She's in charge, but it's clear to me that other than the three equally fragile females, no one's looking out for her in the universe.

  That's gonna be my job from now on, I decide. "I'm sorry he did that to you. I've experienced that shock, and it sucks."

  Jade just gives me a suspicious look. "Why are you in here talking to us? Being nice to us?"

  I shrug. "Because I like you, and I'm curious what would make a human so desperate she'd take on an entire ship full of a'ani."

  "What's a'ani?" the yellow-haired one asks.

  "A clone," I say, scratching at my arm. "You know, the red skin."

  The qura'aki gasps. "I'm a CLONE?"

  Er… "You didn't know that?"

  She looks over at Jade, her purple eyes wide and terrified. "Is that bad?" Her lower lip trembles. "Am I the enemy?"

  "It's fine, honey," Jade soothes. "You're perfect. You are absolutely not the enemy. He's just talkin
g out his ass." And she glares at me as if I'm the problem.

  These females make no sense. The clone doesn't know she's a clone, they don't know how to operate a ship, and they're terrible at being pirates. "You wanna tell me what's going on?" I offer. "Maybe I can help."

  14

  JADE

  My head feels like it's splitting, but what feels worse is the failure. I couldn't keep us safe. I gambled on a plan, and I lost. Now Ruth, Helen and Alice are going to suffer for it, and I want to just curl up into a ball and cry.

  I can't, though. I have to pretend like I'm strong and in control. The other women are shooting me worried looks, and I know they're scared. I have to be strong for their sakes.

  "What do you think is going on?" I answer coolly.

  The big guy grins at me. He paces around the room, but there's no urgency in his steps. He's not doing it because he's agitated. It's like he's doing it just because he's not the type to calmly have a seat. His tail swishes back and forth in a calm manner, and I've learned enough about the mesakkah race over the last few years that I recognize that he's not angry, or seething with rage. His smile must be legit, because his body language just enforces his easy nature.

  Body language is something I've had to lean into over the last few years. Even with a translator chip unceremoniously implanted behind my ear so I can understand alien languages, things don't always line up. Aliens have different sayings, different customs. This particular race might get offended at a bared teeth smile. This one might not look you in the eye. With all that going on, I've learned to look for subtle cues instead. To see how someone holds themselves, the set of their shoulders, if their knuckles are tight, or if they stand too close. If a tail flicks in agitation. All these things can tell me a lot without saying a word, and I trust them far more than any platitudes spewing out of alien mouths.

  As aliens go, though, I'm glad that whoever this guy is, he's the blue-horned race. Mesakkah. Out of the alien races I've seen so far, the mesakkah are the most appealing to human sensibilities. They're blue skinned with armored plating on the brows, arms, chest, and a few other spots. They've got enormous, curling horns that arch back from that plated brow and crown impossibly thick black hair. Their facial features are somewhat angular and oversized, but it all comes together to be strikingly attractive. They're around seven feet tall and have three fingers and a thumb, fangs, and a tail. It's a mixture of elements that are just enough to be familiar and appealing…and different enough to be alien.