Treyjon: Star Guardians, Book 2

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “Ensign Jarok,” he said coolly. “Were you chasing this woman?”

  “Just to apologize,” Jarok blurted.

  “For what?”

  The man who’d been so hulking and confident—and arrogantly annoying—when he was pressed up against Angela now shrank under Treyjon’s hard gaze. They were about the same size, but somehow, Treyjon seemed bigger and fiercer. Maybe it was because he was wearing his full uniform instead of being barefoot in sweatpants. He also glared impressively well. Angela hadn’t seen that from him before and was glad it wasn’t directed at her.

  “Uhm, she didn’t want to come to my cabin.” Jarok’s forehead wrinkled, and he seemed to realize his answer didn’t make much sense.

  “The women aren’t going to anyone’s cabin. This isn’t a harem for your use.” Treyjon whirled toward the mats, his wild black hair swinging about his brown-skinned face. He raised his voice. “Everybody, you’re done training. The captain was right. You idiots clearly didn’t care about working out when you requested to be let back into the gym.” His eyes narrowed as they pinned one man, in particular. The one who’d made the request?

  The man in question was fair-skinned and his cheeks flushed an impressive red.

  “Careful, Lieutenant,” came a cool voice from the back of the gym area. The man who’d been having sex. Apparently, he’d finished his impromptu rutting quickly, because he had his fly up and was walking back out into the open. The bite marks on his shoulders were new, and the woman he’d been with lingered against the wall, looking breathless. “You don’t get to decide when our training session is over.”

  The man, now that Angela could see his face, was definitely older than Treyjon, in his late thirties or early forties. So much for her theory that hormones got less demanding as one got older. Did he outrank Treyjon?

  “You know the captain doesn’t want anyone harassing our guests, Lieutenant Commander Varro,” Treyjon said, his chin up.

  “Nobody’s harassing anyone.” The commander gave the woman he’d had sex with a long look over his shoulder. “We’re just exercising here.”

  “Then why was this woman fleeing out of the room?” Treyjon asked, frowning at Angela.

  As all eyes in the room turned toward her, Angela wanted to hide under one of the tables and disappear. Now that Jarok wasn’t standing so close, she felt that she’d overreacted.

  “Because Jarok is as smooth as that rotgut they make on Amberlin 6,” the commander said with a snort.

  “Nobody should be trying to be smooth.” Treyjon stepped to the side of the open door and gestured through it. “Everybody with a penis, get out of here.”

  “He just wants the room to himself,” one of the men near the mats muttered.

  The commander opened his mouth, but Treyjon spoke again.

  “If you don’t leave now, I’ll bring the pups up here to help enforce the captain’s orders.” Treyjon smiled, giving the commander a hard look.

  The pups? The giant animals he trained? The ones with the massive, blunt heads and wide snouts full of six-inch fangs? The ones that looked like they would eat pit bulls for snacks?

  Maybe it was crazy, but Angela wouldn’t mind seeing more of them.

  The men seemed to find the idea unappealing, because they grabbed their shirts and headed for the door. Jarok rushed past, leading the way out, like a dog with its tail between its legs. The others went more slowly, sharing long backward gazes with some of the women.

  The commander came last. He was as handsome as any model, but the surly curl to his lip made Angela dislike him immediately.

  He gave her a withering glare as he passed, then turned that glare on Treyjon.

  “I’m not afraid of you or your overgrown svenkars, Lieutenant,” Varro said, stopping in front of the door. Only a few inches separated them, and they were of similar height and size. None of these Star Guardians were on the short and runty side. Maybe arms like tree trunks were a prerequisite for the job. “And if you go tattling to the captain about this,” the commander continued, his voice soft and dangerous, making a chill run down Angela’s spine, “we’re going to have a problem.”

  “We can have that problem right now if you want, sir.” Treyjon turned fully toward him. He didn’t reach for any of the daggers sheathed on his belt, or the lightweight throwing knives poking out from the underside of that fur sash, but he did flex his shoulders and loosen his arms, as if readying himself for a fight. “Unless you’d rather hide behind your rank and write me up for my insubordinate ways.”

  “I don’t hide from anything, you know that.”

  The commander threw down his shirt, stepped back, and lifted his hands, fingers wriggling in an invitation.

  Treyjon lunged at the man, and Angela skittered back as they came together in a flurry of blows. They didn’t bother going over to the mats. Nor did this have the look of a sparring match partaken for practice.

  Angela backed all the way to the table where Tala now stood with her hands propped on her hips, like a teacher exasperated by wayward students. Indigo, a divorced woman also in her thirties, had come over to stand beside her.

  “Your doctoring duties may be needed soon, Tala,” she said.

  Tala rolled her eyes.

  The smacking of blows landing or being blocked seemed thunderous, the women all silent as they watched. Angela couldn’t take her gaze from the fight, from the lightning fast punches being thrown. Each man had already connected solidly, slipping past the other’s guard, at least once. She worried that Treyjon would lose and be hurt. She also worried that he would win and be punished for picking a fight with a higher-ranking man. Wasn’t that frowned upon in the military? If he got in trouble, it would be because she had been running out of the room.

  The fierce skirmish went to the ground, wrestling moves replacing punches. The men twisted and writhed, each trying to get the upper hand.

  “Come on, Treyjon,” Angela found herself calling, urging him to come out on top.

  Tala slapped her on the arm. “Stay out of it. Let those fools burn off some of their testosterone on each other.”

  “I’m just cheering for him. He’s the one who wanted to stop the others from bothering us. Not that you’d notice if you were being bothered.”

  “I—”

  “Do you yield?” one of the men demanded, and Tala didn’t finish the sentence.

  Angela looked over and pumped a triumphant fist. Treyjon’s fur band was up around his neck, and his uniform jacket was torn open, but he’d gotten the upper hand. More than that, he was atop Varro, pinning him face-down to the deck, an arm wrapped around his throat. That was no light hold, either. Already, the commander’s face had flushed a deep red, almost a purple, as if he couldn’t breathe.

  “Yield,” Treyjon growled in his ear. “Sir.”

  “Fuck you,” Varro managed to spit out, though his voice was hoarse, the words weak.

  “Not from that position, you’re not going to.”

  Finally, the commander rapped his knuckles on the deck. A sign that he gave up? It must have been because Treyjon rolled off him, rising smoothly to his feet.

  He pulled down the shirt under his open jacket, but not before revealing a chiseled abdomen no less impressive than that of the any of the shirtless men. He kept his eyes on the slowly rising commander as he tucked in the shirt and refastened the jacket, wary but not worried. Something about him reminded Angela of the very predators that he trained. Wild. Deadly.

  She wondered what she would have said if he’d asked her to go to his cabin.

  “Fickle woman,” Indigo muttered.

  Angela flushed with embarrassment as she wondered how Indigo had read her thoughts. Surely, she hadn’t been drooling as she watched Treyjon put his clothing back together.

  But Indigo was looking toward the gym area where the woman who’d had sex with Varro leaned against one of the tall machines. She wasn’t paying attention to her former lover, who was slinking out, much as Jarok
had, with blood from his nose spattering his chest. No, she was watching Treyjon, looking him up and down and licking her lips, like she wanted to go another round right now, maybe to compare the two men.

  “I feel like I’ve been kidnapped by cavemen,” Tala muttered. “And am surrounded by cave women.”

  “Hey,” Indigo protested. “I’m a database programmer. The closest I’ve come to a cave is touring that one down by Tucson.”

  Angela might have made a similar protest, even if there were caves near her parents’ farm that she’d explored as a kid, but Treyjon was walking toward them. She looked at his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t know what she’d been thinking. Or maybe hoping he would.

  No, it was silly of her to think about sex right now. Why would she want a relationship with some weird man from another planet? Before long, Angela and the other women would be returned to Earth, and life would continue on. Normally.

  Unless the Star Guardians’ government told Captain Sagitta to reveal himself and the existence of humans on other planets to the people of Earth. In which case life for lots of Earth’s citizens would probably get very interesting. But not for her. Angela just wanted to go back to the animal shelter in Flagstaff and keep gaining experience so she could become a professional dog trainer. She didn’t want to have to go back to her parents’ farm. As much as she loved her family, she didn’t want to spend her life picking lavender and making soaps and lotions.

  “Sorry about that,” Treyjon said, stopping in front of them. “I had a feeling there might be trouble when I heard about this. The captain… well, he likes to think he’s leading the best of the best, and that the men here are honorable and would never think of being…”

  “Assholes?” Tala suggested.

  “Yup, that’s the word. Translator got it right.” Treyjon smiled and pointed to his ear.

  The translation chips that Angela, Tala, Juanita, and a few of the other women had been given seemed to be ubiquitous, with everyone on the crew having them.

  “Usually, there are only a couple of women on the ship,” Treyjon went on, his smile fading and his face growing more sober, “and sometimes when we’re on long assignments, the men get, uh, antsy. The women that are here are also Star Guardians, and you don’t mess with a Star Guardian woman, if you don’t want to have an operation to retrieve your testicles later. Not that anyone should be messing with anyone. Trust me, the captain will have further punishment for those who did. But anyway, we’re almost back to Dethocoles, so you won’t have to deal with horny men any longer.”

  “Aren’t you the ones who’ll be taking us back to Earth?” Angela asked, though from what she’d heard, it wasn’t entirely guaranteed that their government would allow her and the others to return to Earth. The captain had admitted that. Still, Angela had a hard time believing it. If the Star Guardians were about nobility and protecting humanity, wouldn’t the government that had created them ensure they did the right thing?

  “To Gaia? Oh, maybe so. I know the captain said he’d volunteer. But we’re just soldiers. Who knows what High Command will decree? You’ll be taken care of, though, one way or another.” Treyjon turned toward the open door. “Commander Korta, it’s safe to come in now. You still out there?” He smiled at Tala, Indigo, and Angela, and Angela decided she liked that smile a lot more than his scowls. “He’s got trays full of food for you all. He has good ears and heard mating sounds, as he called them, and didn’t want to come in until he could be certain he wouldn’t have to witness such unpleasantries. He finds all things related to human reproduction quite disgusting and isn’t sure why we don’t simply use test tubes and science to make babies.”

  “Doesn’t sound very fun,” Angela murmured and smiled at Treyjon, hoping to convince him to smile again. And maybe more at her than at Tala and Indigo.

  But Treyjon didn’t notice. He frowned and stepped back toward the doorway. “Korta?”

  The clang of something heavy hitting the deck out there sounded.

  Treyjon reached for one of the weapons at his belt, a stunner, someone had called it.

  “Should we be worried?” Angela whispered, imagining the cock-blocked men coming back with reinforcements. Or maybe that commander had decided to complain to someone, and a bunch of security guards were coming to lock up Treyjon.

  “I don’t know,” Tala said.

  Treyjon was halfway to the door when his eyes widened. He dove sideways, as if he were heading into a swimming pool rather than the hard metal deck.

  Before he hit the deck, a bolt of blue energy zipped through the doorway, slicing through the spot where he’d been standing. It blasted into the back wall, gouging a charred hole in the metal.

  “Get down,” Treyjon ordered even as he rolled and jumped to his feet.

  He came up with a knife in one hand and the stunner in the other.

  Tala grabbed Angela’s arm and pulled her around the table. All over, the women were diving for cover as Treyjon charged toward the door.

  He used the wall for cover as he approached, so the shots streaking through missed him. But more of them came, blue and white energy bolts. Phasers. Or lasers. Or some damn energy thing. Angela didn’t know and she didn’t care. They looked deadly, and that was all that mattered.

  She ran with Tala and Indigo, racing past tables and to the far wall.

  Someone ran through the doorway before Treyjon reached it. He fired the stunner, and a different kind of blue energy struck the invader. It took him in the chest, and he dropped his weapon, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  Before he hit the deck, more men stormed in behind him, some grabbing their comrade and using him as a shield. Treyjon fired again, but the blast struck the same man.

  “It’s the slavers,” Angela realized, taking in the men’s mismatched clothing and desperate eyes.

  “Get down,” Tala growled, pulling her low as more weapons fired into the rec room.

  Angela crouched down beside her and Indigo, using the table for cover.

  More slavers rushed in. Treyjon managed to down several of them with the stunner, but they seemed fearless in the face of it. Most of the slavers weren’t carrying weapons, other than improvised bars that looked like they’d been torn off the ship, but a few had far more lethal-looking crossbow-like energy weapons. They turned those on Treyjon.

  He fired twice more, then sprang sideways as they shot at him.

  “No!” Angela heard herself cry as men kept racing inside and shooting at him. How many had escaped? All of them?

  Treyjon moved impossibly fast, dodging and diving and rolling, but as he came up and leaped over a table, no doubt hoping for cover, one of the energy bolts finally caught up with him. It slammed into his back, and he grunted in pain. He landed hard on the deck and didn’t move.

  More slavers ran inside—dozens—and there was nobody left to protect Angela and the others.

  2

  Angela hunkered behind the table close to the wall, peering through the legs that bolted it and the chairs to the deck. At least thirty slavers had stormed into the room, not including the six or seven that Treyjon had knocked out. But he himself was knocked out now—or worse. If that hole in the wall was an indicator, the slavers were firing far more deadly weapons than he had been.

  “Make sure there are no more Star Guardians in here,” one of the slavers ordered as the rec room door shut. “Then grab a woman. You know the plan. We use them as hostages and bargaining chips to get off the ship as soon as it hits atmo. And we make sure the captain puts down somewhere far from a city and lets us off, nice and safe and with no police coming after us.”

  “I’m getting tired of this adventure,” Tala whispered from the deck beside Angela.

  If Juanita were here, she would probably have smiled and said that she wasn’t, that this was giving her material for her novels. But she was safe with Orion, no doubt up in his cabin, having sex right now. Or reading comic books to each other. Apparently, they both had geek tendencies, ev
en though Orion’s were hidden behind a bunch of muscles and his sexy man bun.

  The slavers headed toward the women hiding in the gym equipment. They hadn’t seemed to notice Angela, Indigo, and Tala yet.

  Angela looked toward Treyjon, alarmed that he wasn’t moving. He couldn’t be dead, could he? Not after he’d come down here to save them from his lecherous peers.

  She wished she was closer, so she could check on him. Several of the long tables and sets of chairs separated them.

  On her hands and knees, Angela started to crawl across the deck between her table and the wall. Maybe if she went around, staying close to the outside of the room, the slavers wouldn’t notice her.

  Tala grabbed her ankle. “Where are you going?” she whispered, glancing toward the men.

  “Checking on him.” Angela jerked her chin toward Treyjon. “Come with me, Doctor.”

  Tala would have a much better idea of what to do when they reached Treyjon than Angela would. She might have quit her job to come up to volunteer at the animal shelter in Flagstaff to get away from it all, but she hadn’t turned off the doctor side of her brain.

  Tala hesitated, and Angela expected her to say she was crazy, but after a glance at the slavers, most of whom were pulling women out from behind the gym equipment, she let go of Angela’s ankle and waved her forward. Together, they crawled around the tables and toward Treyjon. He still wasn’t moving. Fear curdled in the pit of Angela’s stomach.

  “We get to take any of the women with us?” one slaver asked, laughing.

  “We’re trading them for our lives, you idiot.”

  “Be lonely with just you boys for company out in the wilds of Dethocoles. Maybe we could still manage to sell some.”

  “We don’t even have a ship anymore. The Star Guardians took everything from us.”

  “Not everything,” one said. “We’ve got our freedom back.”

  “Not all of us.”

  “Enough. It’s not our fault if the rest of them couldn’t figure out how to escape.”