by Kyle, Celia
Charmed by the Alien Pirate
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
About the Authors
Also by Athena Storm
The Athenaverse Star Chart
Blurb
Out in the fringes of known space, there’s one hope.
He’s got golden skin, horns, and eyes that say he wants only me.
I’m a greaser girl from Novaria. I know my way around an engine room.
And I never got close to anyone. Much less a serious relationship.
As for Swipt?
The handsome alien pirate that rescued me says I’m his mate.
Fated. Destined to be together.
Kind of a big commitment.
But he’s… different.
Swipt is strong. He challenges me. Excites me.
Pisses me off.
But maybe I need that kind of fire.
Maybe it’s what I’ve been missing.
Whoever kidnapped me isn’t giving up.
But with Swipt, I’m going to turn the tables.
We’re going to go after them.
Find out the answers to this mystery.
Or we’ll die trying.
At least we’ll do it together.
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
Swipt
The blinking red dot on the navigation screen isn’t going away any time soon. It keeps advancing toward us at a relentless pace, its well-oiled and finely tuned IHC engines pushing the Prestige’s gargantuan body of steel across the vacuum.
Leaning back in my seat, I state the obvious. “This isn’t good.”
“Damn right this isn’t good.” Grantian folds his arms over his chest as he stares at the navigation screen. He knits his eyebrows together so much that, for a moment, I think he’s trying to wish the IHC out of existence. It doesn’t work. The Prestige is closing in on us at a rapid pace and, with every minute that passes, our options diminish. “We have to hide the women. These IHC assholes will be on us in less than twenty minutes.”
“Any suggestions on how to hide more than a hundred women in less than twenty minutes?” Solair asks, the serious expression on his face a bad omen. As the Captain of the Ancestral Queen, few things rattle him. It seems like having a massive IHC military vessel on our tail is one of those things. “And don’t forget that half of them are still in cryostasis. There’s no way we’d be able to hide the cryopods.”
The only reply Solair gets is a deep silence.
No one has any idea how to solve this, and it shows. Of course, we all knew something like this was bound to happen. You don’t give a ride to one hundred and seven women who have been left adrift inside an IHC cargo ship and expect to blast off into the sunset. Someone put these women inside that ship, and we all knew sooner or later someone would come looking for them.
It was only a matter of time.
Not that any of it matters. There’s no way any of the Kilgari aboard the Ancestral Queen will let these IHC bastards lay hands on our women. Sure, it was a complicated process, learning how to live with more than a hundred human females aboard our ship, but they have become part of our crew. Hell, they’ve become family. Now, we might be rogues and smugglers, but if there’s one thing we’re protective of, it’s family.
“All right, I think it’s obvious that we can’t let them board the ship,” Solair’s words are heavy and ominous. He echoes my own thoughts, but his words carry the weight of the consequences. You don’t flip the finger to an IHC ship as large as the one chasing us and expect to live the day. Still, it’s not like we have a choice. It would be impossible to hide all of the women—especially the ones still in cryostasis.
“Agreed,” Grantian’s golden forearms tense as he clenches both of his fists. As Solair’s second and one of the most experienced crewmen, he h
as always kept his cool in moments like this. If he’s worried, I figure I should be worried, too. “We’ll have to think of something. Fast.”
Laying one hand on my shoulder, Solair locks his eyes on mine. “Swipt, you’re the pilot. Talk to me. What can we do?”
I take a deep breath and turn my attention back to the navigation screen. The IHC ship is still a good twenty minutes away from our position—assuming we don’t move—and that should be more than enough for us to try something. Sure, we’re already within their weapons range, but I’ve got to focus on one problem at a time.
Scratching the back of my head, I make a few mental calculations. Then, needing to check whether the math is right, I bring up an ancillary screen and input some new numbers for a simulated analysis of engine and reactor speed. The results appear on a small readout by the corner and, while they’re not exactly stellar, they tell me we have a chance to make it out of this alive.
“The obvious thing would be for us to kick the engines into overdrive, power the superluminal speed, and bolt out of the system,” I reply, scratching my chin as I consider all the holes in my plan. There are a lot of them, and Solair’s quick to spot the most obvious of them.
“We can’t do that,” he says. “The IHC will pick up the change in our heat and energy signatures. A ship like the Prestige has as many sensors as it has crewmen. The moment they realize we’re about to enter superluminal speed, they’ll fire a volley of torpedoes our way. Judging by the size of the damn thing, I guess they have enough torpedoes to turn us into a floating graveyard. There’s no way—”
“Not necessarily,” I cut him short, clearing my throat once more. “If we mask the phase inducers to the engine core, their sensors will take some time before they pick up the engine changes. By the time they realize what we’re about to do, it’ll already be too late. They might try to fire at us, but we’ll be out of torpedo range before we can get hit. We can leave them in the dust, sir.”
“Mask the phase inducers?” He cocks one eyebrow up in question, and I can tell he’s suspicious of the solution I’ve just offered. I’m a damn good pilot, but even Solair knows I’m not exactly the best mechanic we have on board. A solution like this must seem odd coming from me.
“Ilya can do it,” I continue, shifting my weight on the chair. The moment I say her name, her blue eyes and auburn hair immediately take over my mind. A lot of women are aboard the Ancestral Queen but none like her. Needing to focus, I push her mental image out of my mind’s eye. “She’s an exceptional mechanic, and she has the necessary engineering knowledge.” I make a slight pause, and only then do I continue. “I know she can do it.”
“Ilya, huh?”
“Ilya,” I repeat and then turn my chair so I’m facing Solair. His lips turn into a tight white line, the creases on his forehead deepen, and his entire body seems to fill with tension. Clearly, this isn’t an easy decision for him to make. If he approves my plan and we botch it… well, we’ll be delivered first-class tickets into the afterlife, courtesy of the pinpoint accuracy of a dozen IHC torpedoes. Not a great way to go although it’ll probably be painless.
“All right, let’s do it.” Nodding, Solair gives my shoulder a hard squeeze. His face is serious, but there’s a glint in his eyes. Despite how messy and dangerous our situation might be, this is exactly the kind of scenario that makes us thrive as a crew. “You have twenty minutes to find Ilya and make it happen, Swipt. If we take a minute more, we’ll be fighting a shitload of IHC soldiers in tactical armor.”
“If they don’t blow us up first,” I say and then clear my throat as I realize my comment isn’t exactly helpful. The glint in Solair’s eyes have been replaced by a frown, so I simply push myself off the pilot’s chair and look around the bridge. When I spot Lokyer, I make my way toward him. He’s hunched over the navigational console, his posture so bad his horns almost scrape against the screen. He only realizes I’m standing behind him when I tap him on the shoulder. “Take the controls while I go find Ilya. All right? We’re on a tight schedule.”
“On it.” He jumps from his own seat and sinks into the pilot’s chair. He puts all the straps in place, as if he’s expecting for shit to go sideways at any moment, and my stomach lurches as I realize how high the stakes truly are. Knowing I don’t have a second to waste, I turn on my heels and run off the bridge.
Chapter Two
Ilya
“Holy shit, this girl can sing,” I say aloud to myself, not caring at all that anyone passing by my room might think I’m insane. I often find myself getting lost in the music when listening to Fenix Black, and today’s no different. I’m so glad Lamira gifted me the old holovid player Grantian had given her before they’d moved in together. When there’s not something that needs fixing aboard the Ancestral Queen, things can get a little boring sometimes.
Not that I’m complaining. I’m incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to listen to music, considering my current situation. A few weeks ago, I woke up in a cryopod on an abandoned IHC freighter ship called the Frontier with no idea how I’d found myself in such a predicament. The last thing I remember before awaking in the pod was going to bed in my room in The Solar Dream, a resort and casino on Glimner that’s owned by my father.
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special bulletin on the Kaleth terrorists that are being hunted by the Interstellar Human Confederation,” the station cuts to a news broadcast and I groan.
They’re talking about us. Again.
At first, I thought maybe I’d been drugged and kidnapped in my sleep because my father is one of the wealthiest men on Glimner. He’d pay any price to get me back, so perhaps I was part of some ransom plot. It was the only thing that made sense to me in the early days of my imprisonment, but then the plot completely unraveled and became so much more sinister.
I wasn’t alone when I awoke on the freighter. With me were one hundred and six other women, some awake and some still in cryostasis. None of them knew why they were aboard the Frontier, either. Some had stories eerily similar to mine, but others stated they’d been arrested by IHC operatives and taken to a holding cell first, and that was the last thing they could recall. Some of them had pulled off some petty crimes, but nothing bad enough for this to be their fate.
“Preliminary reports indicate that over one hundred female terrorists have, after overpowering the crew of the transport ship carrying them, now begun to openly raid and prey upon innocent ships in regions of space between the IHC and League of Non-Aligned Races,” the news broadcast continues with its lies and propaganda.
We didn’t overpower anyone. We couldn’t. We’d been locked in a massive hold with a very small supply of food and water that we’d managed to scavenge from the ship’s provisions. As far as I could tell, we were there for seven days. Our meager rations were running out and things were looking grim when we were finally rescued, but not by any official faction. Just when I was convinced I’d die without ever knowing why I’d been taken, a group of swaggering Kilgari smugglers quite literally burst into the room—blowing the hull door clean off its hinges—and liberated us.
We owe those smugglers a debt of gratitude and then some. They welcomed all of us aboard their vessel, provided us with food and shelter, and integrated us into their ranks with the barest of complaints. We were fortunate to be rescued by a group of males who actually respect and revere women—Kilgari society is polyamorous, but matriarchal in nature—as opposed to thinking of us as commodities to be bought, used, and sold.
Or worse.
I shudder to think of what might have happened to us had we been found by a Reaper ship. We may have been branded as terrorists but at least we’re still alive, even if we are on the run.
“Anyone encountering these women are to alert the local IHC Consulate immediately,” the broadcast warns.
I’m not really sure if I believe in fate, but I feel like there might be a reason why the Kilgari were the ones to find us. In their culture, there’s a ti
meless belief about finding one’s jalshagar, or fated mate. Following the jalshagar principle, two of the women I now consider to be my closest friends have already been paired up with two of the Kilgari crew. Varia, our group’s de facto leader, found her mate in Solair, the Queen’s charming captain, and Lamira recently paired off with Grantian, first mate and ex-member of the famed Hael Hounds mercenary company.
I’ve been wondering about my own fate a lot lately, specifically when it comes to the pilot of the Ancestral Queen, Swipt. He’s a handsome male with an amazing smile and a killer body, both of which I’ve found myself concentrating on a little too hard as of late. Especially since we’ve been spending so much time together.
At first, we’d only had a brief introduction. Once he’d heard that I was a professionally trained greaser girl, Solair had asked Swipt to give me the grand tour of the Queen, hoping I’d be able to assist its engineer, Montier, in keeping her shipshape. Through casual conversation, Swipt and I had quickly discovered we liked the same kind of music, were massive fans of the same BBL team, and both enjoyed Jax’s cooking maybe a little too much.
“Eyewitness accounts link the terrorists to the destruction of the Kaleth mining colony near Luvon. The terrorists are considered armed and extremely dangerous,” more lies spew from the news.
