First Mate's Accidental Wife

by Eve Langlais

  Damon wasn’t the only one hopping on two legs, which was probably why most of the dining Kanishqui didn’t pay him any mind. Damon noted the humans in gray overalls keeping the deck clean, squeegeeing the extra moisture into grates for recycling. Others guided large buckets on wheels to stock the vats. A few of the humans had ditched their coveralls and were being diddled in corners. Willingly, he might add.

  Exiting the cafeteria, they immediately entered a kitchen-type prep area packed with even more humans. Not slaves, he noted. They were too happy and talkative for that. Instead of the staff uniform, a good many wore bright layers of fabric as they sat perched peeling and prepping. Food for the servants. A sign of a good ship. The starships that offered a place to live, protection, and regular meals tended to have no issues finding people to staff their vessels. The galaxy wasn’t an easy place for those without work or credits to their names.

  Damon counted himself lucky Jameson had snared him as a boy before he got into too much trouble. The captain set him on an entirely new life course. Mind you, he still got in trouble, but he considered that part of his charm. Damon figured he couldn’t be all bad, considering he enjoyed a large circle of friends.

  Pity he couldn’t have brought a friend or two with him. The deeper he went into the ship, the more he was conscious of how far he had to travel to return to the Moth. The good news was, in this place, he no longer felt alone and cut off from his kind. Did Flem even realize just how screwed he was if the humans on board decided to revolt? Because they sure as hell outnumbered those who owned the ship.

  Another level down, and they finally reached the bowels of the ship, the hidden heart where the things the crew didn’t want the commander of the ship to see happened.

  They had a hidden heart on the Gypsy Moth, too. Captain Jameson knew about it, of course, but allowed it so long as the crew didn’t cross any hard lines.

  In the hideaway zone, fraternizing occurred, usually helped along by some drinking. The alcoholic kind.

  In space, both drinking and kissing of coworkers was frowned upon. Everyone worked closely together on a ship, which meant extra care was needed to ensure harmony amongst everyone. No one wanted to be the one left behind at a galactic way station because there was friction on board.

  However, denial bred a need to flout the rules. To feel free. Humans needed a chance to unwind. Flirt. Have fun and forget they were hurtling through space and putting a lot of faith in mechanics and engineering.

  Music pulsed from speakers strung on the ceiling. It alternated from a water orchestra to a hard-pulsing beat. In the hidden heart, humans and Kanishqui mingled. A quick glance showed probably about two dozen bodies milling around. Some dressed in dull gray uniforms, others in civilian clothes. Everyone present looking for a good time.

  It wasn’t hard to find the bar serving drinks and to snare a glass. The bartender, a flinty-eyed guy with a shaven head and a goodly number of piercings, held out his hand for payment. Good thing Damon had brought a hunk of chocolate. Never leave the ship without it.

  Damon used the sweet treat to buy Flem a drink as well. “A toast,” Damon declared, holding up his glass. “To space.” He tossed back the drink then signaled for another round.

  Once the glasses hit the bar—and stuck to the tacky surface—he dug into his pocket and withdrew a stoppered tube. He shook it. “Interest you in a sprinkle of cocoa?” he asked.

  The drool coming from Flem was a strong yes. Damon shook a bit of the chocolate powder into the glass. Flem downed it and slapped the glass back down, and not a moment too soon. A jiggle went through him and all his tentacles wiggled.

  “Good shit, eh?” Damon remarked. Chocolate was valuable because many species reacted to it like a drug. Humans, the universe’s biggest drug dealers. “More?”

  The frantic flail said yes.

  They drew some attention. The Kanishqui crowded around.

  “Don’t worry, boys and girl,” he said with a wink at a mauve female. “I’ve got plenty.” He tilted the cocoa over numerous glasses at once and pulled out more vials as more glasses hit the bar. Much drinking occurred. Damon kept up with his hosts and showed off by tossing back two shots, one after another. Fucking rocket fuel burning down his throat.

  He slammed down the glasses and declared, “Double fisted.”

  Waterfall crashing. *challenge accepted. Nine tentacles slapped down on the table. An empty glass rolled from each, not a hint of chocolate left behind.

  “Refill.” He tipped in more powder.

  Not that Flem needed more. His many-armed new friend was singing, and not very well. Rapids crashing on rocks then babbling softly. Not that Flem cared how it sounded. He and his other tentacled friends were swaying along in time, weeds in a current. Which was Damon’s cue.

  “I gotta take a leak,” Damon announced, getting to his feet.

  “I wondered when you’d break the seal.” A buxom woman, gray hair scraped back into a bun, winked. “Come with me. I’ll take ye to the lavatory.” The matron with the wide hips led the way out of the party atmosphere of the hidden heart into a service corridor.

  Damon wasted no time. He located the handle to a chute, dragged it open, and whipped out his dick for a piss. While the medical injection he’d taken ensured he couldn’t get drunk, it did nothing to empty his bladder. The relief made him groan.

  His contact kindly looked away while he did his business, but she did laugh. “Was it as good for you as for me?”

  “Better,” he said with a grin. “I’m Damon.” He tucked everything away and placed his hands under the bacterial cleanser before turning to offer it for a shake.

  “Matilda.”

  “Ever notice, Matilda, how moths come at night?”

  “Only if there’s light.”

  He smiled. He’d found his contact. “Where to?”

  “First…” Matilda held out her hand.

  He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a small amulet. Favors always came with a cost. He wasn’t sure what made the amulet valuable. The captain had given it to him along with the code phrase and mission. Whatever it was, it satisfied his contact.

  Pocketing it, she said, “Follow me.”

  Good thing she was there to guide him because no way could Damon have found his way, even with a map. The route they took proved circuitous, and yet they met no one but humans on their way. The utility areas were considered below a Kanishqui. No interference or awkward questions meant Damon might actually accomplish his mission without getting into trouble.

  Might being highly unlikely.

  “How much farther?” he asked.

  Matilda glanced at him over her shoulder. “We are close now. It’s taking longer because the route we took is surveillance free.”

  “Speaking of surveillance, did you need extraction for doing this?” Damon asked as they climbed yet another ladder.

  “I’ll be fine. The blame for what happens next will be placed on your drinking companion. He was assigned to keep watch on you.”

  Poor Flem. Another chocoholic… Damon wondered what rehab was like.

  Matilda placed a finger by her lips before turning the next corner. She crept, and when she paused, she dropped to her haunches.

  With another gesture for quiet, the matron peered out through a grill.

  “It’s clear. Let’s go. She’s in the last cell at the end.”

  She, as in his target. The whole reason for being on this ship, for “accidentally” running into the Kanishqui in the first place.

  The grill popped out, and Matilda gestured him forth.

  “Aren’t you coming?” he asked when he noticed Matilda still behind the grill.

  “This is as far as I go.”

  “How the hell do I get back out?” Because the place was a maze.

  “The deal was to show you the way.”

  “I can’t go back the same way with the cargo.”

  “It will cost you.” Matilda held out her hand. He dropped t
he last of his pure chocolate in it. She quickly told him how to exit, no guiding him this time. Now he just had to remember it.

  The door at the end of the hall bore an actual metal hasp. No electronic locks. No wasting of ship power on that.

  “Stand back from the door,” he ordered.

  No reply. He’d have to assume she heard him. He placed his weapon on low and aimed it at the lock, melting it. Yanking the door open, he stepped in and was clobbered.

  Chapter 2

  “Oww! Do you mind?” the stranger snapped. “I’m here to rescue you.”

  Michonne—Michi for short—stared at the man rubbing his chest. “Who are you?” Other than ridiculously handsome with dark hair and blue eyes.

  “Your fucking knight in shining armor.”

  The profanity had her wrinkling her nose. “Is that language necessary?”

  “Fucking right it is.” He pointed to his ribs. “You’re not the one who’s going to have a bruise.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. She had hit him rather hard. The stool they’d given her to sit on made a lovely weapon. One she aimed too low. The man in her cell was much too tall.

  Clasping her hands, she rocked on her tiptoes. “Did my father send you?”

  “What do you think? I am not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, sweetheart.”

  A term of endearment already? But they’d just met! How forward of him. And intriguing. Father usually kept her away from the rakish sorts.

  “Let me gather my things.”

  “Things? Why would you bring any of their stuff with you?” The handsome man frowned.

  Did he not understand how things worked? “These are my things. I’ve been prepared for my abduction for a long while now.” A bag packed with her necessities so that, when it finally happened, she was ready. She’d learned enough from her sisters to know what to expect. Why, Linnette had been kidnapped before she’d reached twenty EC years. She now had a brood of seven children, three palaces, and a vacation moon to herself. So lucky.

  Michi, on the other hand, had been taken by a Kanishqui. Not exactly her ideal. But this new fellow… While he didn’t have sleek, blue skin like her sister’s husband, he was handsome. Even if he scowled.

  “We need to move, princess.”

  “Rushing leads to mistakes.” She remembered the lessons from her governess and shared her knowledge to make the universe a better place.

  “Stalling can kill. Let’s go.” He snared her pink satchel. What a gentleman to carry her things. What she didn’t appreciate as much was his grabbing of her hand.

  She pulled it free, or at least attempted to. “Unhand me. This is most unseemly.”

  “I don’t have time for manners. We need to move.” He yanked her, and she stumbled before catching her feet.

  “Must you drag me?” she gasped as she practically ran down the hall to keep pace. She gripped her skirts in one hand to keep them from tangling in her legs.

  “Do you always question your rescuers this much?” he replied. He stopped at the intersection, just before the corner. He eased around to peek on both sides then pulled her left.

  “I expected a rescue with a touch more chivalry.”

  “I’ll take survival over politeness, princess. If you don’t mind.”

  She could see how that might be a better plan.

  He stopped abruptly, and she ran into his back. His very broad back.

  For a moment, he didn’t move, and she said, “I am glad you made an appearance when you did. The choices given to me by the commander were rather limited. Marriage or dinner.” Neither appealed.

  “Fizz wants to marry you?”

  “No need to sound so surprised. I’m considered quite the catch.” No need for modesty when the truth sufficed.

  “Why did you say no? I hear they can make excellent lovers.” He shot her a look over his shoulder and a wink.

  Her cheeks heated. “I am not looking for a lover. And if I were, it wouldn’t be with a Kanishqui.” Saying it aloud seemed so blasphemous. But Michi couldn’t help it. She wanted to at least marry someone who had only two arms and two legs. She could handle even two heads, but one penis was preferred. Although her freak of a sister, Priscilla, enjoyed otherwise.

  “You won’t have to sleep with anyone if you can follow instructions long enough for us to get off this ship. Don’t listen to me and maybe you will find out how you feel about having sex with sushi.”

  “Sushi?” she said questioningly.

  “Raw fish you put in your mouth.”

  “That’s disgusting!” she exclaimed. If grossly entertaining.

  “Actually, in some places, eating sushi is a delicacy. For the Kanishqui, it’s known as foreplay. I hear they’re kind of rubbery, though.”

  Her lips quirked. “Shouldn’t we be escaping rather than discussing the cannibalism of my captors?”

  “We are escaping. Which reminds me, according to Matilda, the next part is gonna be tricky. We’re going to enter the hall where the docking tunnels are. It will probably be guarded.”

  “Guarded. I see. You need help fighting them given your skill level is subpar.” She caught his dilemma right away.

  He frowned. “My skills are fine. I can handle a few of the Kanishquis.”

  Could he? She eyed his two arms.

  “I’m stronger than you think,” he blustered.

  “If you can fight them, then I don’t see the problem.”

  “Captain left orders to not kill them.”

  “Then knock them out.”

  The man turned to look over his shoulder. As if he could see past the bend. “Knock them out, she says. They’re liking hitting gelatine.”

  “Doesn’t your weapon have a stun setting?”

  “Yeah, but using it, even on stun, will likely set off an alarm.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you can’t get us out of here?” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Oh dear. How disappointing. We might as well return to my cell.”

  “You’re not going back.”

  “And according to you, we can’t go forward because you can’t fight.” An odd choice for a rescuer.

  His face tightened. His lips flattened. Then he sighed. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “What of the guards?”

  “I’ll handle them. Let’s go.”

  Stepping around the bend, she heard the liquid words of her captors, but only barely over the racing of her heart. This was all so very frightening—and exciting.

  Michi had led a very sheltered life to this point. Closely guarded by her father, a treasure for the stealing because of her worth. Unlike her older sisters, Michi had reached a ripe old age of twenty-three EC years and still remained unfettered. Not for lack of trying. Many attempts to abduct had been made. An alliance with Papa was worth the trouble. But up until now, those attempts were foiled.

  Which was why the success of the Kanishqui shocked. Of all the potential captors, couldn’t she have gotten a handsome one? Someone like the man still holding her hand? He had a callused grip, unlike that of her tutors. Scholars tended to have soft skin. Father had tough hands. He didn’t start out rich and powerful. He worked hard to get where he was. They learned his story early in the schoolroom.

  As predicted, a pair of floating Kanishquis guarded a door. The one closest to them gargled something.

  “Who’s the girl?” Her rescuer didn’t even look back at her. “I picked her up on the lower level. Cute, ain’t she? We were going to visit my crib for some action, if you know what I mean.”

  Warble. Swirl.

  “Share?” He tossed an amused grin back at her. “No, I don’t think she’s into that kind of thing. But I could be wrong. Let me ask.”

  “No.” Heat flooded her skin once again. The very idea.

  “You heard the lady, so if you’ll kindly move to the side.”

  The Kanishqui guards held their ground. Or, given they floated, was the correct term air?

  “Reall
y, guys, you gonna cock block a man who’s been in space for way too long?” That was the only warning they got before the gun sitting in his holster ended up aimed at the guards.

  He fired. Bright yellow flashes that stunned the Kanishqui—but didn’t kill. They floated in the air, tentacles adrift.

  “You left them alive.” Definitely not a true mercenary.

  “Duh. I promised the captain.” He tucked away the gun and held out his hand. “Come on. Ship’s just over there.” Over there being through a flexible tunnel that hadn’t seen the factory of its birth for a long time.

  “That doesn’t look safe.”

  “Safer than staying here. Let’s go.”

  She took a step, and a tentacle wrapped around her ankle. She wobbled and yelped.

  He pulled his gun and fired again. The tentacle went limp, but the other guard, also still awake, managed to sound an alarm.

  Her rescuer shot him again, too, but not before a klaxon roared to life. The door to the connecting tube slammed shut. The entire section they stood in sealed itself off with a clang.

  Her rescuer groaned. “Fuck me. They’ve trapped us.”

  “What does this mean?” she asked. Because, if he was perturbed, it probably didn’t bode well.

  “It means either the commander of this vessel has to declare an all clear to unlock the doors or we need the Gypsy Moth to punch a hole in the hull, without killing us, that we can use to escape.”

  “But we have no space suits.”

  “Yeah, we might get some space bite. Maybe lose a few extremities, depending on how long we’re exposed.”

  “Is there a third choice?” Because the first was improbable and the second most definitely hazardous to their health—and limbs.

  “No other choices, princess. And given number two is the Hail Mary of space, we need to work on the first option. Find a way to convince the commander to let us go.” He paced, avoiding the floating tentacles of the unconscious guards.

  “You’re a visitor to his ship. Perhaps you could demand safe passage.”

  “I won’t be able to demand a pot to piss in once Fizz sees you.”