by Kyle, Celia
Tamed by the Alien Pirate
Mates of the Kilgari
Celia Kyle
Athena Storm
Contents
The Athenaverse Star Chart
Blurb
The Story So Far…
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Authors
Also by Athena Storm
The Athenaverse Star Chart
Blurb
Love isn’t real. It’s just a biochemical reaction. Right?
That’s what I’ve always believed.
All my friends falling in love with these gorgeous golden alien pirates?
I’m convinced they’re just experiencing biological impulses.
I mean, I get it.
I watch Zander stride through the hallways to me and my heart skips a beat.
I see him lean over to speak to me and my knees weaken.
When he touches me?
It’s like a supernova… down there.
I want to be with him.
To laugh with him. Satisfy him. Stay with him.
Who knows how long we have in this galaxy?
Our enemies are still as determined as ever.
I want my time with the deliciously muscular alien to count.
Except that means I was wrong about love.
It isn’t just physical. Not just chemicals.
It feels so true in my mind, body, and soul.
But that’s not science… I don’t know if I can trust that.
True love can’t be real.
Can it?
The Story So Far…
The year is 2338. Humanity has weathered it’s infancy and has navigated to the stars. They’ve colonized other worlds and become a space faring civilization and formed the Interstellar Human Confederation.
Along the way, they’ve come to discover that the galaxy is actually a pretty crowded place. There are several political entities in the galaxy.
The Trident Alliance is composed of the Vakutan, the Pi’rell, and the Alzhon.
The Ataxian Coalition is composed of the Odex, Kreetu, Grolgath, and Shorcu.
The Coalition and the Alliance has been fighting a war for about 350 years. At its heart, it’s an existential conflict that determines whether the known galaxy will be guided by the teachings of the Ataxian religion or by the capitalistic and technocratic tendencies of the Trident Alliance.
Details are unclear how the war between the Alliance and Coalition started, but atrocities in the name of protecting the innocent have been committed by both sides.
Several races, trying to remain neutral and unaffiliated with either side have formed a loose political union known as the League of Non-Aligned Races. Each race maintains their sovereignty. Member states meet infrequently to discuss trade and security matters, but no true leadership exists.
Many races over the centuries have settled and created a political entity known as the Helios Combine, situated between Coalition and Alliance space and next to the Badlands - a region of space with many stellar phenomena. The Combine is known for it’s slave based economy, its capitalist based caste system, and a rigid social class system.
Humanity had for a long time maintained their neutrality, but after multiple encounters, sided with the Alliance in their war against the Coalition.
War has been unkind to the humans.
Against this backdrop, a large IHC freighter, named the Frontier was found adrift in space by a Kilgari smuggler ship called the Ancestral Queen. The women were found either in cryosleep or emerging from it, with no idea how they ended up on the ship other than the fact that they had been arrested by human security on a number of worlds.
What they discover is that their government has announced that they are terrorists and wanted for acts of treason and espionage. None of the women believes they have done anything to warrant this.
The Kilgari are aliens that live in a matriarchal society and belong to the League of Non Aligned Races. The Ancestral Queen, led by Captain Solair has brought the women on board and continued to help them as well as integrate those who wish to stay into the crew.
Some women wish to return to their homes. Very few had any sort of real families. But they all want to clear their name and bring those who are falsely accusing them to justice one day.
That day has yet to come…
Chapter One
Zander
The plasma coil flickers with intermittent purple light, seeming almost like a hundred fireflies trapped within the confines of a serpentine glassteel tube. Most sapients would probably find this display to be aesthetically pleasing, a balm to the soul.
I’m not most sapients. And this infuriates me to no end. No, not just infuriates me. It insults me because it’s a sign that my two so-called assistants aren’t doing their jobs properly.
“No. No. No.” I punctuate each word with a slam of my fist on top of the power relay casing they’ve ostensibly been working on. Turning about, fists clenched in fury, I glare at the two imbeciles Solair has foisted upon me for this retrofit. Vahn, the slenderer of the two, purses his thin lips and attempts to defend the indefensible.
“But the diagnostic we ran said this coil was well within normal efficiency parameters.” His voice is melodious—he fancies himself a singer—but it might as well be sandpaper rubbing across my cerebral cortex because of the stupidity of its message.
“Normal efficiency parameters?” I reach up and clutch at my horns for fear my head will explode. “Normal is not good enough. Not if you’re working under me.”
His fellow, a somewhat slovenly man of immense build and strength but sadly not the brain to match, snickers.
“What do you find so amusing, Kelk?” I turn my ire on him, freezing his mirth cold. “Your mistake is his mistake is my mistake. Just like a plasma conduit, all the pieces must be working in concert or…”
I arch an eyebrow, prompting him to finish.
“Or it doesn’t work?”
“Or it fails.” I slam my fist into the casing once again, knocking tools onto the deck plating with a great clatter. “And failure is never an option when your job is overseeing devices, which, when improperly tuned, could mean the painful deaths of every Kilgari and human on this ship.”
“But—but the diagnostic machine says it’s within normal parameters.” Vahn holds the boxlike scanner in front of him like a shield. I snatch it away and send it hurtling across the access room to smash into pieces against the bulkhead.
“I don’t give a damn what the diagnostic machine says. You will get this up to my specifications, which do not allow for this grotesque deviation.”
“Grotesque Deviation?” Vahn and Kelk exchange glances.
“Yes, you have adjusted the influx control valve to .000012 microns, when it’s supposed to be .00001 microns.”
“But…” Kelk swallows hard. “But that’s barely a si
gnificant difference at all.”
“Yeah, and it’s well within normal…” Vahn closes his mouth after I narrow my gaze in his direction. He clears his throat and tries another tact. “What I mean to say is, it won’t make any difference when we’re firing.”
“And how do you know that it’s off without even looking at a diagnostic box?” Kelk crosses his arms over his chest, and a moment later Vahn does the same.
“Yeah, how do you know?”
I start chuckling, though I am aware my eyes glitter like black diamonds. The two blanch and take a reflexive step back.
“First of all, I don’t need a diagnostic box to tell you’ve done a piss poor job on your calibration. All I have to do is look at the plasma coil itself. If you had tuned it to my precise specifications, there would be only .00035 seconds between flashes. There are .00037.”
“But—”
“Silence!” I slam my fist against the casing again, knocking the rest of their tools down. “You were about to say ‘but what difference does that make?’ Am I right?”
Vahn nods, and a moment later Kelk does as well.
“Well, let me tell you what kind of difference that makes. During a firefight, if the enemy has their shields tuned to within a matrix threshold of one hundred to one hundred twenty-one quarks per second, there’s a .000002 percent chance that the whole thing will overload and cause a catastrophic cascade reaction, blowing out the entire starboard side gamma emitter array. Is that what you want? To cripple the Ancestral Queen and leave us vulnerable to enemy attack? Well?”
My comm makes a chime, reminding me I have a meeting scheduled on the bridge with the rest of the senior staff. Good. We should be getting close to M’Kal, which means we’re that much closer to finding Lokyer.
Lokyer was a good kid, a little bit of a smart mouth on him but a good kid. When we thought he was dead, I took it like a blow to the gut. Finding out he was alive created hope that was tempered by the fact he’s likely being tortured even as we speak. So finding him is of the utmost priority.
“I’ve a meeting to attend. You two will remain here until this plasma coil is tuned precisely to my specifications. Is that clear?”
“But, without the diagnostic box it could take all day.”
“So go requisition another one from Montier. Or better yet, learn to do without one.”
“Easy for you to say. We’re not all Mr. Millimeter.”
I scowl at him until he has the good sense to look at his feet. True, I often dicker about adjustments most see as minor, but they simply haven’t thought things through to sufficient levels.
A great Terran philosopher known as Murphy said anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the most inopportune time. Well, the best way to avoid that is to make sure nothing can go wrong in the first place. That’s why you tune your plasma coils precisely, just in case the worst happens.
Speaking of the worst happening… I find my progress to the bridge impeded. Not by blast doors or armed mercenaries, but by a far more daunting foe I am powerless against. Two of my own crew mates stand before me—and one of them is a superior officer.
Grantian is our first mate, and while he’s no doubt supposed to be on his way to the same meeting I am to attend, he’s a bit preoccupied at the moment. His preoccupation takes the form of his jalshagar, Lamira, a human woman of great character and beauty.
Normally I don’t have a problem with either of them, but at the moment they’ve turned this critical junction into their own personal adult holovid studio. Okay, that’s exaggerating a bit. They’re both fully clothed, but this is definitely not an all-audiences display.
Grantian has gathered Lamira into his muscular arms, pressing her tightly against his body as they kiss passionately. And I do mean passionately. Loudly, too. Not just the lip smacking, but grunts and coos and moans.
From time to time they pause, gaze into each other’s eyes, and get these gigantic grins, but then they dive right back into it. Fortunately, and perhaps unfortunately as well, they can’t see me from my current position around the corner, peering through a ventilation screen.
“We have to stop. The meeting’s probably already started,” she says amid giggles.
You think?
“I know. I know. Just one more kiss…”
And they’re off again. No hurry or anything, you two. There’s only a crewman to be rescued. Please take your time.
“What a lewd and wanton display. They should keep such things confined to their quarters.”
My knees grow weak, and my mouth is suddenly dry because I recognize the voice behind me. Thrase comes up to stand by my side, and I avoid looking right into the large umber eyes behind her spectacles because I find when I do, I can’t concentrate on anything at all.
Her honey blonde hair swishes behind her shoulders as she shakes her head and tsks at our engaged crewmates. Thrase does not wear a lot of cosmetics as some human women do, but she doesn’t really need to. She is simply beautiful, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my fated mate.
Or at least, I strongly suspect she is. Or I just want her to be. I have yet to confirm it with a kiss, and given how our respective duties keep us at different parts of the ship it doesn’t seem likely I will get the opportunity. From the curve of her generous hips to the swell of her bust—human women have them all the time, not just during nursing—I think I would probably be attracted even if she weren’t brilliant and possibly my jalshagar.
Not that I’m going to tell her that at the moment. I do feel the need to stand up for Grantian and Lamira, however.
“Such passionate displays are not uncommon for two fated mates, Thrase. Try to keep that in mind.”
“Fated mates?” Thrase arches an eyebrow at me, and her gaze runs up and down my body. I have taken off my outer brocade coat and am clad in a sleeveless shirt since the plasma conduit access room is rather warm. Is it my imagination, or is she spending an inordinate amount of time staring at my chest? “Really, Zander, I thought an intellectual such as yourself wouldn’t buy into that metaphysical mumbo jumbo.”
“It’s not, as you so quaintly put it, mumbo jumbo, Thrase. In fact, there have been studies conducted by Kilgari scientists—”
“Yes, yes.” She holds a hand up to forestall me, her eyes focused on Grantian and Lamira. Lamira lets out a very, ah, enthusiastic moan when Grantian grabs her by the buttocks. “I’m sure there’s some sort of chemical reaction, much like the one that goes on when humans think they are in love, but that doesn’t prove it’s fate, or karma, or something else ridiculous. Just compatible genes expressing themselves in the most embarrassing way possible.”
“You… you don’t believe in love?” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my tone, though it embarrasses me terribly.
“Of course I don’t. It’s just a biological condition, one brought on to perpetuate progeny and to blind good sense.”
Solair’s voice booms over the all ship hail, startling all four of us.
“Attention, senior officers… apparently you’ve forgotten that we had a meeting on the bridge scheduled to start… oh, five minutes ago. Please report here at your earliest convenience.”
Lamira giggles and pats Grantian on the chest.
“You got me in trouble.”
“I got you in trouble? You kissed me first—”
They continue to banter as they head up the corridor, and after a moment, Thrase and I follow.
“Finally. Perhaps now something of interest will actually happen.”
She walks ahead of me, and I shamefully admit my eyes are focused on her rounded rear when I respond.
“Yes, perhaps we will get to the, ah, bottom of things.”
Don’t I wish.
Chapter Two
Thrase
Perhaps I am not the social butterfly that Lamira is, but I’m no stranger to the dating game. As I accompany Zander to the bridge, I can’t help but think back to the men I dated before my capture
and cryogenic incarceration upon the much-ballyhooed Frontier.
Were they intelligent? Of course they were. Were they handsome? Most of them—I’m not without an aesthetic sense, after all. Were they successful? Each and every one.
But they didn’t have one iota, not one micron, of the passion I saw on display in the corridor between Lamira and Grantian. Most of them took all night to work up the courage to peck me on the cheek good night. And the few times the night led to sweaty encounters in a dimly lit dorm room, well… let’s just say the experience was underwhelming and left me by and large limp.
So yes, I was a bit envious of their display, which perhaps is why there was so much venom in my tone when I spoke to Zander. I’ve gone and upset him, too, I can tell. That’s most unfortunate because out of all the tall, powerfully built golden-skinned Kilgari—all of whom are undeniably gorgeous—he is the only one who I might be attracted to.
Might be? I’m indulging in my penchant for understatement once again. I’m strongly attracted to him, and not for the reasons you might think. Well, perhaps for some of those reasons, but mostly because, like me, he’s a sapient who is deeply entrenched in science. We’ve had several discussions about the behavior of subatomic particles and the likely effect of super luminal travel upon them, which were most engrossing, but unbearably brief.
Perhaps I would be more confident in pursuing intellectual exchanges with Zander if not for my own inexpert handling of interpersonal communication. Despite what Ilya or Fiona might say about me, I don’t actually go out of my way to sound like a know it all, nor do I consider myself the smartest person in any given room.
