Alien Lords' Captive (Celestial Mates Book 6)

by Marla Therron

  ALIEN LORDS’ CAPTIVE

  CELESTIAL MATES BOOK 6

  Marla Therron

  Copyright 2017 by Marla Therron

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced

  in any way whatsoever, without written permission

  from the author, except in case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical reviews

  and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

  character, person, living or dead, events, place or

  organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not

  have any control over and does not assume any responsibility

  for third party websites or their content.

  First edition, 2017

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  It’s warm – too warm. Sure, whatever she was wrapped in was soft and sensuous on her skin, but it was too hot. Annoyed, Matrise opened her eyes.

  For a moment, everything was bright. There were vague shapes and shadows, no definition until her eyes slowly adapted to the bright light of the room. When, at last, her vision cleared, Matrise was left suspended in a terrifyingly befuddled moment.

  It took Matrise’s brain another minute to finally catch up with the clarity her eyes were experiencing. When it did, she realized that the red-dominated décor was enhanced by red curtains, turning the bright light of the day into a red glow.

  Still too much red…someone really bought into the red equals luxury idea.

  Too hot!

  Matrise finally focused on the sheets – they were velvet. Not a slinky, supple silk or satin; no they were velvet.

  Matrise shifted and struggled against the sheets where they had been tucked around her. Something was making it impossible to get loose – at least until it also shifted. Until, he shifted.

  Definitely he! The man who shifted, finally releasing an edge of the swath of velvet causing Matrise to overheat while tethering her to the bed, looked as if he should be shooting calendar spreads or soft-core desktop wallpaper shots.

  Suddenly, something moved on Matrise’s other side. Another man – and she was seeing double. The man on her left was the spitting image of the man on her right. Twins?

  In that moment, Matrise realized that something was very wrong. This wasn’t one of her indecent fantasies as she recovered in a highly medicated state in a hospital.

  No, Menage Trois had never been one of her fantasies. Men could get weird about the risks of coming in contact with one another. And twins who might not be squeamish that way: that was just too strange.

  ***

  Prologue

  Planet - Rodnekow’E nee Habögad 4

  The super-sun rose as it did every other day. The first rays of light teased the warm hues of dawn into the jet sky. The massive orb caused the rippling sky to sparkle in all hues visible to the R’kowe, the warrior race that ruled over the planet.

  Suddenly, everything glowed red. The sky bled. It heralded the change of the line – a new ruler had taken precedence. Those that were awake for the sunrise sent out a call and the people rose from their beds and rushed from their tables to gather outside their homes. They stared out at the lightening horizon waiting. Waiting for the blood to settle – waiting for the nature of the next Eon of Power to be revealed.

  The R’kowe waited hours. Some say they waited days – finally, the people gave up hope. The sky did not lie. The aura of the stronghold was set – and all knew the pain that would rule over Rodnekow’E. The twins had taken the throne from their father.

  Chapter 1

  Earth – 2167AD

  Matrise Bordeux struggled to keep her features straight as she reported to the Deep Space Transport Research Wing of the McCallaghan Aerospace Institute. She couldn’t believe that the day had finally come! She was finally going to go into space. Her double major in Structural Engineering and Aerospace Physics was going to pay off at last.

  The McCallaghan Space Program was highly competitive and the Deep Space Transport division was even more so. Matrise has scraped every minute of every day that she could to study and excel in her fields. She had shot for the stars and now she would see them closer than anyone had ever before. It was launch day!

  Matrise had been integral in the structural design of the Transit Orb – TOB. She was to be part of the Christening Crew on the Virgin Mission. They were aiming for Habögad 4. It was a planet that appeared capable of supporting human life and was well worth the expense and risks that came with exploration.

  Many had postulated that humanity would hit a reproductive lull that the population would drop as mating couples elected to have only one child or even none. Unfortunately, that lull still hadn’t hit and the Earth was near buckling under the strain of its most invasive and aggressive inhabitants.

  The global government had approved extensive funding on the Deep Space Transport TOB in hopes that an alternative planet could be found for colonization. Before TOB, Habögad 4 was completely beyond humanity’s reach. If all went well today, the universe would be humanity’s oyster.

  Matrise made effort to conceal that ecstatic grin, ruthlessly straightening her lips and catching the insides of her cheeks in her teeth to attempt to help keep her face straight. She didn’t want anyone to know how much she had begun to doubt the hope of success. Doubts were in the past. The future was calling – and victorious success was its name.

  As she turned into the DSTR Wing, pushing the double doors wide, Matrise saw that she was the last of the crew to arrive. Captains Marx Varger and Lu-Ne Pax, the Global Militarized Arial Representatives, JunoHalūk – the medical officer, Damien Appelby – the mathematical and navigations whiz, and Scott LePatley – team hunk (not that he was interested in Matrise, Juno and Lu-Ne were more his type) and mechanical engineer.

  Matrise was the designer – the ‘what if’ person that would be aboard the TOB. Many had argued against her being among those to be launched into space, but she had quashed the objections.

  Damien had helped her with that. He was so sweet, but just too much a boy still, maybe in another five years – if she was still single…probably will be, Matrise thought with a grimace. If she were still single in five years, Damien would be perfect.

  As she strode into the large chamber, Matrise noticed that the sky-roof was open and everything was ready.

  “Matrise,” Juno called out as the petite woman strode over.

  “Juno – I hope I haven’t held things up, I wanted to take a few minutes and ease the jitters.”

  Juno smiled her sweet smile, “Not at all. The Captains are still in their briefing.”

  “I thought everything was settled…” Matrise felt a tremor of worry creep up her spine.

  Juno placed a hand on Matrise’ arm to settle the apparent anxiety. “It is – the Commanders merely wanted to give their boy and girl yet another pep talk and it is turning into a time waster. I checked in there myself and politely informed the Commanders that they needed to wrap it up.

  That if they continue to hold up the launch, the forces experienced in the course of trying to make up the time to the splicer in order for the trajectory to be accurate according to Damien would force me to delay this launch in consideration of the health of all involved. They tried to bully me, but I refused to budge. Marx and Lu-Ne will be down here
shortly.”

  Juno was a sweet little woman eighty percent of the time but it was that other twenty that one had to worry about. During that twenty percent, Juno Halūk was a stubborn hard ass that knew how to cut any person down at the knees and she would merely walk over their mangled bodies for the benefit of those she respected. Matrise was grateful to be considered among those that Juno respected.

  “Thank you Juno.”

  Another sweet smile crossed the woman’s face, “Of course Matrise.” Juno linked her arm with Matrise’s and turned them both toward the TOB that was nestled in the docking station hitched to the shuttle.

  “Believe me, I know how important today is to you. Ahh –” Juno commented and nodded toward a staircase leading down from the Command Center. “The captive Captains have been released. Let’s go get settled so that your little ball can get off the ground.”

  Matrise laughed. Juno was a delight – but she had refused to call Matrise’s brainchild anything other than her ‘ball.’ It wasn’t that Juno wasn’t capable of understanding the physics behind the design, but she just didn’t care.

  They ducked as they stepped down through the airlock into the cabin of the TOB.

  *

  The Captains finally managed to board, and Lu-Ne sealed the airlock before any of the blusterers could pop their head in and further disrupt the launch.

  “I do not know how even the politicians can hold that much hot air.” Lu-Ne sneered in her lilting accent that always made Matrise think of the tropic paradises that were shielded under domes for the rich and famous in the East Seas.

  The crew laughed in agreement as spicy Lu-Ne dropped into her seat and fastened her harness.

  The coms crackled to life as the launch officials buzzed in. “Orb Crew. Everyone fastened in?”

  “That we are, James,” Marx answered. “We are anxious to get off the ground.”

  “Hear you there Captain Varger – Ok, Orb. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the lift. Shuttle Regency is beginning the lateral lift. Regency is a fast tug boat – we’ll begin the countdown at five minutes to release.”

  *

  As the Regency streaked through the atmosphere, Matrise, Damien, and Scott all tracked their monitors for warning blips, but it was proving to be smooth sailing.

  “Making the shift,” Damien announced, heralding their cross into space beyond the many layers of the Earth’s atmosphere. “I say that we are on track for trajectory to begin the launch countdown in just over an hour.”

  “Be precise Whiz,” Marx called from his seat.

  “Fine! We are due to begin launch countdown in seventy-three minutes, forty-six seconds, twenty-two nanoseconds, and…”

  “Got it!” Marx hollered.

  Matrise chuckled and shared an amused glance with the numbers geek. Captain Marx Varger was a brilliant pilot and had an innate skill for directing the TOB through zero gravity, but he had no patience for numbers beyond three digits, unless they were talking about numbers preceded by a dollar-sign.

  *

  That has to be the fastest seventy-three minutes, forty – screw it! – the longest just over an hour ever. Matrise heard the beginning cycle of the Zero-G spin. She turned toward the ‘front’ of the orb – identifiable only due to the placement of the Captains’ seats and piloting controls.

  The communication units buzzed to life as the first protective panel began to recede, opening the view to the Space Splicer, Joseph Howitzly, Ph. D. had refused to give his creation another name.

  The bars joined to create a window of sorts that the energy produced by the cells in each connecting rod would splice the dark matter of space, creating a break through which the TOB would slip.

  It was an incredible piece of human ingenuity – it was a shame that Dr. Howitzly had been seemingly unable to witness the success of his creation. The man was still recovering from a brain aneurism – he was lucky to have survived and not become a vegetable.

  “Hello again Orb Crew. We have been measuring your progress and can safely say that you are right on schedule. Countdown will begin momentarily as soon as the Regency has crossed the launch threshold and stabilizes as the safety point.”

  “We here you Home –” Marx confirmed.

  “Launch threshold crossed. Launch sequence begin – Launch countdown initiating. Five minutes and counting…Now.”

  The clock in the corner of every display switched modes and synched to the countdown.

  “What the!” a voice yelled over the communications units.

  “Stop! You must stop!” A new voice broke across the audio. It was a voice that Matrise recognized, Dr. Howitzly.

  “Doctor. Doctor! Sit. Sit down. How did you get here? You are still unwell.” Someone tried to placate the old man.

  “You must not launch into the Splicer,” Howitzly raged. Matrise glanced around at her crew mates. Lu-Ne muted the audio as she turned in her seat.

  “How sad,” Lu-Ne murmured. “I guess what I had heard was true.” She looked at Juno for confirmation.

  “So it seems,” Juno sighed. “We have all heard the reports. The aneurism has caused Doctor Howitzly to become paranoid and aggressive. It is sad that it has to show publicly today.”

  Matrise shook her head. She was fond of her old mentor – he was a brilliant mind. Unfortunately, there were times that brilliance broke the mind. It appeared that Howitzly had reached that point.

  Matrise went back to monitoring the launch sequence the outer layers of the TOB’s shell were about to begin spinning. They had to rotate precisely otherwise the mechanisms would become hung on each other and rip the Orb apart. Even though she was trying to focus on the monitors, Howitzly’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  “Listen! Listen to me. You do not understand what you are doing. It would be possible with an android, but not a living subject. The same energy cannot occupy two spaces. Do you not understand that? The Splicer, it splices things!” Howitzly’s voice faded from range as it seemed he was hauled from the Command Center.

  “Sorry about that Orb Crew. The good doctor seems to be having poor reactions and broke out of the hospital. His quite pale tuchas was exposed to everyone in the room from his open-back hospital gown.”

  “Good grief James!” Marx objected to the details.

  “Just saying. Anyways, everything looks to be going smoothly with the launch sequence. The docking cup has receded. The Orb is merely held by the twin pins now, Doc-de-Wine,” James commented using his nickname for Matrise.

  “Thank you. I am showing the same here.”

  “Good. Shell-Whirl beginning; communications will be interrupted once the Whirl has reached maximum speed. Ten seconds after max speed, the thrusters will fire and the launch will commence.” James paused, and it sounded as if he popped one of his sticks of cherry bubble chew. That was confirmed by the first loud snap of the chew in the microphone.

  “Max-Whirl in seven... snap… five… snap... three… snap…Max –” and the coms buzzed with static and white noise.

  “Ten,” Damien began as he flipped a series of switches.

  “Nine,” Scott picked up as Damien checked his safety harness.

  “Eight,” Juno uttered before muttering over the spikes in blood pressure from all of the crew members including herself.

  “Seven, you had all better be fastened tight, the pressure is going to be a bitch,” Marx hollered. Lu-Ne’s voice chimed ‘six, five, four’ under her co-Captain’s decree.

  “Three,” Matrise shouted over the growing roar of the spinning layers. “Two.”

  One! And the TOB shot forward.

  *

  They had locked him in the attached medical bay. The Commanders had been courteous enough to like one of the displays with the feed from space. Still, he felt part of his soul scream out in agony as the pretty little ball raced toward his creation.

  Joseph Howitzly was attached to monitors and felt the tears streak down his cheeks as the sphere penetrated the active Splice Ring.
The metal glowed hot – and the sphere was flung backwards with a little pop as two of its three outer layers were sheared off.

  He heard the alarms going off through the building and simply laid back to sob. He could only hope that things hadn’t gotten messy.

  *

  “Fuck! What the fuck happened?” Marx shouted in the pulsing darkness. The lights would occasionally flicker on and they would go out with a pop just as quickly.

  Several inner panels of the Orb had been popped off their moorings by the heat…or something. The computers were fried. There was little hope of being able to pilot the pinball anywhere. They would have to hope that the Regency would be able to catch the Orb in the docking station.

  “I don’t know Marx,” Scott LePatley shouted. “I am working on getting the emergency light up, but I am having to Jerry-rig the wiring by hand – in the dark I might add.”

  “Great, well, I hope you get it up soon.” Marx sighed in the dark, “Everyone! Sound off. Vargner here!”

  “LePlatley,” Scott confirmed.

  There was a cough, “Appelby…” Damien’s breath wheezed. “I think I am stuck under a panel.”

  “We’ll get to you kid,” Marx answered, “Next! Pax?”

  “Yes – yes. If you shout in my ear again I am going to stab you with the shrapnel that is stuck in my thigh.”

  “Halūk? Bordeux?”

  “They could be under a panel Cap.” Damien wheezed.

  “Unconscious…” Pax hissed as she attempted to adjust in her seat.

  “Don’t move Lu-Ne!” Marx snarled as he reached out to brace a hand against her shoulder.