Ragal: A Sci-Fi Alien Dragon Romance (Aliens of Dragselis Book 3)

by Zara Zenia

  “You’re quite the little rebel.” I smiled.

  She laughed. “Well, you don’t successfully run a major operation like this without knowing how to work around obstacles.”

  We walked back to the front of the building, chatting and laughing. Now that her cooperation was ensured, it was time for her to meet my brothers.

  Chapter 6

  Tasha

  I asked Ragal to fly me back to the LCC building after our tour of the factory so I could start working on allocating space and resources for our shared project. It was so new, being involved with someone and having them share your interests.

  At the factory, I had been surprised by how readily he absorbed the technical information. I worked with brilliant minds, but outside of the cultivated group of our research and development program, it wasn’t often that I encountered someone so technologically apt.

  Between the crazy physical chemistry and the intellectual connection, I felt myself growing quickly and massively infatuated. Mind-blowing lovemaking, followed by an in-depth conversation about the benefits and drawbacks of catalytic converters for managing emissions in large-scale manufacturing, was a delightful combination of circumstances that I would have never expected to experience in a partner.

  The men I had dated in the past were generally from two groups. There were the high-powered men of business, with egos to match, or the rough and ready guys I had dated during my time in the militia.

  The businessmen were either seeking to advance themselves through my connections or they were genuinely interested until they started to feel their own star being eclipsed by my status and position.

  The handful of guys I’d gone out with in the militia hadn’t understood or shared my interests outside of flying and didn’t like that, even while in the militia, I was so involved in my father’s business.

  It wasn’t a great track record, but I was optimistic. In research and development, you could learn as much from your mistakes as you could from your successes, and you normally had to get things wrong a dozen times before you got them right. I hoped that logic extended to dating.

  As we pulled up to the building, Ragal and I dismounted his bike. His hand slid down to mine and I felt a thrill of excitement. It seemed that he had been sincere that this wasn’t just a one-night fling.

  My assistant, Li, came bustling into the lobby as we walked in, rattling off messages from investors and going over my interview schedule with the local scriveners. As we talked quickly, we went toward the tele-lift to head to my office, but Ragal stayed there.

  Turning back, I offered, “You’re welcome to come up to my office. Once I get through the clutter from this morning, we might have a chance to go over our project.”

  With an impish smile, he said, “You did agree to spend the day with me. However, I need to reconnect with my team, as well. We both have our businesses to attend to, so why don’t we meet up again for dinner, instead?”

  “Sure, that sounds great!” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too eager.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll bring my team with me.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little deflated, “sure, that’s fine.”

  He smiled and brought my hand to his mouth, kissing it before adding, “Then after that, I have a few things in mind that will definitely not involve them.”

  I happily accepted the suggestion and he offered to pick me up at six, when I planned to be done.

  I headed back to my office and caught up on the work I’d missed from the morning. The reaction to my presentation had been phenomenal, with a few exceptions. I knew of at least three or four of our investors who also had business interests in water supply. Obviously, making more water available and for far cheaper was going to cause a dent in their finances.

  I had hoped, when we had explained our larger-scale plans, that it would be clear how such an investment into our infrastructure and planetary development would ultimately come full circle.

  Fortunately, the overwhelming majority saw it that way. When it came to the handful that didn’t, well, the Lord-Case Company wasn’t exactly a two-bit player on Vaxivia. I felt confident that we had the momentum and the means to weather whatever storms they might try to create.

  After several rounds of meetings, I finally took stock of the fading light outside and had a small panic attack. I was still wearing the clothes Ragal had ordered for me. They were tasteful and well-made, if a little plain. For work, they were great, but I wanted something with a little more oomph for dinner.

  I knew I’d be meeting with the rest of his team and I was massively curious about this project. Alien presence on Vaxivia was a huge deal. In the early stages of Vaxivia’s development, there had been attempts by hostile visitors to wrest control away from the Earth Federation citizens. They had failed, but the xenophobia they had inspired had a long memory.

  Certainly, as a major aerospace player, LCC had clients elsewhere in the galaxy, but we generally conducted business via old-school 1420MHz narrowband radio exchange, and shipments and deliveries were handled via teleportation.

  The idea of actually dissembling and studying alien flight technology was, to my inner geek, almost as exciting as the unfolding situation with Ragal. The two situations being connected was nothing short of a windfall.

  I rushed to the chamber adjoining my office. Given the demands of my job, it was often necessary for me to have a change of clothes and my own refresher chamber on the premises.

  I stepped into the refresher and enjoyed the feeling of the dry, herb-scented steam cleansing my body. With so little water currently available, refresher chambers were the primary means of bathing. I had heard stories of luxury complexes on Earth Prime and other more water-rich planets, where people could bask in pools of crystal clear water. I shuddered at the thought, it sounded so glorious, and I started considering the costs associated with creating such facilities here, once our hydro-harvesting project was in full swing.

  After the steam, a quick burst of ultraviolet germicidal light completed the cleanse and I stepped out, dreams of hot water soaks lingering in my mind. I went to my clothing selection, which was mostly comprised of sleek, tailored business attire. In the back, however, I had the perfect cocktail dress.

  It was imported from Nebbia, an Earth Federation-colonized planet that served as the epicenter of high fashion. I had ordered it when I first stepped in for my father, expecting a little more glamour than I ended up encountering in the position. Not that I was unhappy with the job, but still, I was filled with a certain amount of glee at the prospect of finally getting to wear this dress.

  The dress was made of Nebbian Nylex fabric in a soft, dusty blue that I liked to think matched my eyes. It was a halter style, with a low sweetheart neckline and a fit that clung to and accentuated every curve. I slipped into it and examined my appearance. I tousled my hair out of its chignon, letting my long waves fall loose, applied some light makeup, and finished my look with a dark red lipstick, wanting to add a little drama to the ensemble.

  I looked, in my own estimation, pretty damn good. Still, my stomach fluttered with a jittery combination of nervousness and excitement.

  I didn’t get much time to fret, though. Just as I finished picking out some nude pumps, a knock sounded at the door of the office.

  Ragal was waiting for me in the lobby, his back turned. As I walked out, my heels clicking on the polished floor, he turned and I reveled in the change of his expression. He gave me a thorough, appreciative once-over and visibly swallowed. I had a feeling the night was going to end well.

  “You changed,” he said bluntly.

  “I’ve been dying to wear this, but I haven’t had the right occasion. Hopefully it’s not too much for tonight,” I said, smiling at the heat in his eyes. With his height, I knew he was afforded a clear view of my cleavage, and that was fine with me.

  “It’s just the right amount of much,” he said a little nonsensically and I laughed.

  I threw on and ac
tivated a gossamer light thermo-cape for the ride and we headed to a chic bistro in the trendy Teleport district. Ragal parked his bike in a compression stall behind the building and we headed around to the entrance. Before we walked into the light, he pulled me back.

  “Wait,” came his low voice.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, a little alarmed.

  “Nothing,” he said, edging over to the side of the wall, quickly looking around. “I just wanted to do this.” He pressed me against the building, shielding me from the street, and kissed me soundly.

  My body heated as his hands coursed over me, grabbing and caressing in frantic need. The memory of our last encounter was still etched into every cell and, at his touch, it felt like a fire ignited.

  His hand slipped under my dress, seeking. “Ragal! We’re in the middle of an alley.”

  “Mmmm, yes, let’s try to be quiet then,” he mumbled.

  As his fingers slipped around the fabric of my panties, the shock of sensation pierced me. He fondled my breast through the dress, and it wasn’t long before I felt myself ready to shatter with pleasure.

  “Shhh,” he said, covering my mouth with his, swallowing a moan, as I came suddenly, intensely.

  Breathing hard, I sagged against him. “That was… unexpected.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but it couldn’t be helped.”

  “We should probably hurry inside, I don’t want to keep anyone waiting,” I said, coming back to reality.

  He agreed and we hurried into the restaurant. I felt a little flushed and hoped it wasn’t obvious to anyone else what had just happened. We were shown to a table in a quiet corner of the establishment.

  As we walked up, I was struck by the similarity of the men in the party. They were all tall, with long, lustrous hair and angular good looks, though, complexion wise, it was a bit of a mash-up.

  Ragal approached and introduced me. “Tasha, I’d like to introduce you to my team,” he started as they all stood. “These are my brothers: Zaruv, Karun, and Pavar. And these lovely ladies are Andromeda Titania and Jennifer Walker.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize it was a family business,” I said, surprised.

  The shortest of them, the muscular Pavar, quipped, “Well, just those of us that weren’t wanted by the rest of ’em.”

  “Well, it’s lovely to meet you all, regardless of your popularity.” I laughed. I was suddenly nervous, knowing that I was actually meeting Ragal’s family, moments after our encounter in the alley, no less.

  Ragal pulled out a chair for me between himself and Jennifer, and we sat.

  “So, are you all from Narsis?” I asked.

  Jennifer spoke first. “Actually, Andie and I are Vaxivians. We’re both from the Outpost.”

  “Ah, that sounds familiar. Isn’t that associated with Sergeant Johnson’s Militia Hub?”

  Andie cut in, “The very one, in fact. Do you know Johnson well?”

  “No, but we have done a good deal of business with his particular militia unit. I believe your sector will be the first to receive our newest line of hovercrafts.”

  Andie’s interest was piqued and we discussed some of the new products we would be rolling out in the near future. We all talked shop for a bit before finally ordering meals.

  It was a hip new restaurant specializing in handmade old-world pasta. We ate and drank and my nervousness began to recede.

  “So, Ragal told us about your presentation on hydro-harvesting. That sounds like an incredible project,” Andie mentioned.

  “Yes, it’s a really exciting possibility! Vaxivia, as you know, is covered in water-permeable rock, so it’s incredibly difficult to store or collect surface water. It’s crazy to think about it now, that no one ever asked the simple question: where does the water go? It was a long-held assumption that the hot surface temperature of Vaxivia caused the greatest loss of moisture through evaporation, but no one really looked at it. Had they done so, we might have realized far sooner that there were vast stores of it far below the surface.”

  Pavar reflected, “It seems a fact of nature that it is often the simplest of questions that no one thinks to ask which end up having the biggest ramifications.”

  I agreed, “Indeed, which is why I feel strongly about never settling. If we accept what is and never question what could be, we can’t make progress. It’s been my mission since I took over for my father to find ways not only to improve our business holdings, but, more importantly, to create a sustainable future for all our planet’s residents. And to do that effectively, I think we have to always be questioning and testing our assumptions.”

  He smiled and looked pleased. “Compassionate, lovely, and intelligent. I look forward to doing business with you, Ms. Lord-Case.”

  “Hear, hear,” came the reply from the rest of the table as they raised their glasses.

  “Call me Tasha, please,” I insisted, blushing slightly at the compliment. The conversation shifted to our joint venture.

  Zaruv, the eldest brother, pulled out a slim glass holo panel and handed it to me. I took it and examined the holo image. It appeared to be a map of some sector of Vaxivian wilderness.

  “We made a breakthrough today, as it happens. Through Ragal’s calculations, we were able to estimate a general area for the crash site and believe the wreckage to be in approximately this vicinity,” he said, gesturing to a large swamp basin.

  “Hmmm, that will pose some problems,” I said, studying it.

  Ragal inquired, “How so?”

  “This area that you’re referring to—my hydrogeologists have taken samples and evaluated its potential for water use. Unfortunately, the high presence of phosphorus makes the environment highly acidic. My concern for this project is that such acid could have damaged components of the materials and technology we hope to recover.”

  Karun frowned. “Then we must work with utmost urgency. We cannot risk further damage to the ship. There is far too much at stake.”

  Ragal gave his brother a dark look. “Yes, this technology could heavily impact our business operations.” He looked back at me. “I generated a model from the information we collected from the federation satellite monitoring system we utilize, and I believe there may have been life pods, possibly used for stasis in deep space travel. The satellite signatures indicate that the pods would have landed here and here.” He indicated an area nearer to the edge of the swamplands.

  Surprised, I responded, “Your calculations, if correct, are quite impressive. I’d be interested in learning how you generated your models later.”

  We discussed the best strategy for recovering the pods and searching for the debris. The group consensus was we should seek out the pods first, as we had a better chance of recovering them intact. From there, I had a team of researchers ready to study and repair our findings while we continued searching for the ship’s remains.

  Finishing our meal, I noted that it wasn’t terribly late and offered to show them the facilities I had worked to dedicate to our project earlier in the day. The mission was coming together swiftly and I was eager to salvage what we could before it was lost to deterioration.

  It had occurred to me that if I emerged from this side project with something new and flashy to dangle in front of my hesitant investors, it would be a good distraction from the upfront losses of our hydro-harvesting program.

  We travelled in a caravan to the LCC industrial campus, a long plot to the north of the city, lined with nondescript hangars and fabrication warehouses. Several of the fabs were open day and night, so the compound was still accessible.

  I had selected a medium-sized construction hangar with an adjoining clean room and lab for the project. I was walking the group through a brief tour of the facilities, showing off some of our construction assets, discussing our estimated space needs, when I heard a distinctive, obnoxious voice.

  “Tasha!” I turned toward the direction of Albert’s voice, irritated by his unwelcome familiarity.

  I mentally rolled my
eyes and turned back to my guests. “Everyone, please allow me to introduce you to LCC’s Chief Financial Officer, Mr. Albert Archer.”

  Albert came up to me, placed his hand at the small of my back, and turned to the group. “And what’s going on here exactly, babe?”

  I stepped away from his unwanted touch, annoyed. Albert had been groomed for a leadership position all his life and, as our CFO, he had found that. He wasn’t content with that, however, and had been gunning for my father’s position after it became clear that his health was declining. Dad surprised us all, though, and had given the job to me. Albert had been irate at first, but then, like a switch had been flipped, he suddenly seemed to see me through a different lens.

  He was moderately handsome, with his lustrous strawberry blond hair, athletic build, and pale blue eyes, and I found myself not invulnerable to the flowers he sent and his flattering compliments. We had gone on a small handful of dates, but his real agenda to use me as a means of controlling the company became clear very quickly.

  I had tried gently extricating myself from the situation, but he stubbornly refused to take the more and more obvious hints.

  Using my most politely dismissive tone, I tried to rid us of him and his assistant, Tadisha, who followed him everywhere like a lapdog.

  He tried to grab my hand, but I quickly and smoothly moved it. “Well, Mr. Archer, I’m currently in the middle of a tour for some business associates for a new project.”

  “What sort of project? Why haven’t I been briefed on this?” he asked, suspicion flashing in his eyes as he took stock of Ragal’s tall, imposing,figure.

  When I didn’t instantly answer, he turned to Ragal and questioned him. “What sort of associate are you?”

  Ragal gave him a hard look and answered calmly, “My team and I are in the salvage business. I fear I am not at liberty to discuss anything further. I’m sure your boss will fill you in when it is appropriate.”