“Enough.” Xyker admired the man’s courage, but his words confirmed what he feared. More Alliance ships were expected. He nodded to Ensign Qeel. “You know what to do.”
“No!” This time it was Monitor Stein who interrupted proceedings. She rose awkwardly from the copilot’s seat and lurched to the control panel. “I’ll do it,” she sobbed. “Just don’t hurt any more of my crew.”
“Thank you. You will engage engines, set a course on headings, which my navigator will provide... Zeke? Do you have the data?”
“I do, sir.”
The man hurried to provide the required information and Xyker watched as Erin Stein input the new course into the Skyhawk’s navigation systems. The sound of the ship’s engines rose from a barely discernible purr to a purposeful hum. The Skyhawk started to move forward, slowly at first then gaining in velocity. Erin sank back into her seat, the pilot’s station, Xyker noted. She closed her eyes and screwed up her brow.
“Ariann, what about that medication for the pain?”
“Here, sir.” The medic loaded her epidermic pen from the supplies brought by Jacob Morrell and injected a dose into Erin’s upper arm.
The effect was rapid. Within moments the stricken female appeared to relax, her features smoothed out, and she opened her eyes. She was still crying though. Xyker decided to put her, and her comrades, out of their misery.
“Ensign Qeel, I trust our other guest is comfortable?”
“Aye, sir. I left her in the forward cargo hold.”
“Excellent.” Xyker gestured to Morrell and the other crewman. “These two can keep her company there.”
Monitor Stein grabbed the sleeve of his tunic. “Katya? You mean Katya? She’s not dead?”
“Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not given to cold-blooded murder. Not as a rule. Your crew member is safe enough. And she’ll stay that way, they all will, as long as you continue to cooperate. Is that clear, Erin?”
“I...”
“Erin, you really don’t have any choice. Are you going to make this more difficult for everyone?” He paused to allow her to consider, then, “So, have I made myself clear?
“Yes,” she hissed. “Perfectly.”
“Good.” He turned his attention back to the medic. “Do you have a diagnosis? Any cause you can find for the headache?”
Arrian nodded as she consulted her handheld tablet. “It’s an old injury, sustained perhaps a month ago, maybe longer. A blow to the head has resulted in some sub-meningeal bruising and swelling, which is causing extreme pain and occasional blackouts.”
“A month ago?”
“It was when you escaped, she was injured during the fighting,” Deputy Monitor Morrell put in. “Erin was caught in the firefight, took a hit to the shoulder and another to the head. She hasn’t fully recovered.”
Xyker pondered this new information. “Yet, despite your injury and obvious weakness, not to mention your apparent lack of combat experience, the Pan-Galactic Alliance still assigned you to pursue me? And gave you a skeleton crew to handle a fighter this size? No offense, Monitor Stein, but were you really the best they could do?”
Her answer was a venomous glare. She shifted in the pilot’s seat.
“Ah.” Now Xyker did allow himself to smile. “They didn’t assign you, did they?”
“It was my responsibility,” muttered his captive. “They had no right...”
“You should have followed orders, Erin. This might have ended very differently if you had. And now, not only have you failed to recapture me, but you managed to seriously irritate me by destroying my ship and two thirds of my extremely valuable cargo as well as endangering the lives of myself and my entire crew. There will be a reckoning, Monitor Stein. You will live to regret your actions. And you will learn the value of obedience.”
“What do you intend to do?”
He leaned in to study her features, a liberty he would never have been afforded had they remained on Amalthea II. Her tawny hair tumbled over her shoulders and defiance burned in her beautiful brown eyes, though tears still glistened there too. And unless he was very much mistaken, a flicker of fear lurked. He intended to stoke that flicker into a furnace. She would learn the folly of crossing a Ymirian commander.
“You will face Ymirian justice and discipline. It will be harsh, decisive, and very effective in correcting your behavior. But first, we have the inconvenience of your current incapacity. I can’t discipline a female in your feeble condition.” He straightened. “Ariann, what do you suggest?”
“I can induce coma to allow the swelling to go down and the meninges to heal. Normally the process would take several months in a human, but I can accelerate it. A few weeks would be enough.”
“Do it.”
Monitor Stein shook her head. “Now wait, I don’t want—”
Xyker halted the human female’s protests by the simple expedient of placing his hand over her mouth.
“You no longer control what happens here, Erin. Ariann can help you. You will be safe in her care, as this ship and the rest of its crew will be safe in mine. Now go. You and I will speak again, when you are quite well.”
Chapter Three
The faint whisper was barely audible. Erin strained to pick it out. The sound grew, strengthened, became a low hum, which in turn gave way to a louder, more strident tone. It was no longer pleasant, no longer restful or soothing. She wished the din would stop.
No. Be quiet. I want to sleep...
“Wake up, now. Open your eyes, Erin.”
She refused to obey. Her eyelids remained clamped shut.
“Look at me.” Her tormentor was insistent and Erin became aware of hands as well as voice, shaking her, squeezing her fingers.
No. She tried to pull her hand away but lacked the strength. Determination lent her renewed vigor as she struggled to be free.
It was no use. As consciousness crept back Erin knew she had to open her eyes, had no choice but to face this unsympathetic world once more. She cracked her stubborn eyelids apart.
A female gazed down at her, not human but not so very different. The eyes were violet and not unkind. The black and silver hair was rain-straight and slicked back to form a smooth, sleek cap. The skin tone of the alien was not so dissimilar to Erin’s own, maybe a few shades darker. The features were humanlike, and the body similarly so though the alien was of larger stature than would be average for a human female.
Memories flooded back and Erin groaned. The alien who peered down at her in apparent concern was the Ymirian medic. Ariann? Erin glanced from left to right, recognized her own cabin on board the Skyhawk, and remembered everything.
Xyker Ramone had taken control of her vessel. Her crew was imprisoned in the cargo hold and she had been unconscious, she had no idea for how long.
What has been happening? Is my crew safe? Where are we? Erin struggled to sit up but her muscles refused to cooperate.
“Allow me to assist you.” The medic aided her, and Erin managed to remain upright.
“You feel dizzy? Disoriented?”
And the rest. Erin glared at the Ymirian. “I want to return to my control deck.”
“Of course. Commander Ramone has asked that you join him as soon as you are sufficiently alert. I will take you there.”
“I can find my own bloody control deck,” muttered Erin as she tentatively lowered her feet to the floor. The cabin spun around her and she grabbed for the steadying arm of the Ymirian.
“There is no hurry. I shall inform the commander that you require more time...”
“I’m fine. I...” Erin paused, surprised to realize that, in fact, despite the dizziness and confusion she did, in fact, feel fine. Better than she had for weeks, certainly since that bloody breakout when she’d been caught in the crossfire. “My head? It’s stopped hurting.”
“Yes. You are healed now. That is why I decided to revive you.”
“Revive me? Ah... yes. You knocked me out.”
The Ymirian appeared affronted. “I did n
o such thing. I placed you in a state of stasis in order to better effect the necessary repairs to your meningeal tissues. That process is now complete, so I terminated the stasis.”
Erin gave a brisk shake of her head as though the action might restore some order to her scattered wits, but she didn’t answer. Instead she made another attempt to stand, this time with greater success.
“I’m going to my control deck. Excuse me.”
“I shall take you,” offered the medic pleasantly.
“I already told you, there’s no need. I—”
“Those are Commander Ramone’s instructions.” Ariann opened the cabin door and stepped through it. “Follow me, please.”
* * *
The control deck was quiet when Erin entered. She took a few moments to adjust, to assess.
Ramone sat in the pilot’s seat, her seat, his attention fixed on the view from their forward sensors, which filled a huge screen covering the entire front wall of the deck. Another Ymirian, the man called Zeke, she recalled, was at their navigation and communications position, and a third alien scanned the engineering data display. The vessel was performing well, all systems within optimum parameters. She had no need to consult the displays to check; her bio-synch with the Skyhawk provided all the data she required.
This Ramone might be a criminal, a thief, but he also knew how to handle an intergalactic fighter craft. He had said as much, that her ship and her crew would be safe with him. Well, her ship seemed to be intact, but what of the rest?
“I want to see my crew.”
Ramone turned in his seat. The smile plastered across his too-handsome features was deceptively mild, in Erin’s opinion. “Ah, Erin. You look well.” He ignored her demand and pointed to the copilot’s seat. “Join me, if you would.”
“My crew. Where are they? I want—”
“They are probably on their way back to your own solar system by now. We left them on Caliban. That’s a small moon in the—”
“I know what and where Caliban is,” snapped Erin. She did not accept his invitation to be seated. “Are you saying you abandoned my crew, left them stranded there?”
“I am not. I’m saying we allowed them to disembark on Caliban, left them sufficient supplies to last several months, and informed the Pan-Galactic Alliance of their whereabouts. There’s no reason to suppose they won’t be picked up within days.”
“Why should I believe you? You lied before, about Katya...”
“Please feel free to peruse the ship’s log, which will confirm all I have told you. However, may I suggest you do that later, once our preparations for landing on my planet are complete?”
“Your planet? Are we—?”
“About to enter orbit around Ymir? Yes. I find I require your assistance to execute a safe landing.”
“But that’s impossible. How long was I unconscious?”
Ariann had remained at her side and provided the answer. “Forty-seven of your days.”
“What? I...” Now Erin did sink into the copilot’s chair. “Forty-seven days? Almost nine weeks...?”
“That is correct,” confirmed Ramone. “Now that we have established the timeframe, perhaps we can proceed to engage landing protocols.”
Erin gaped at him, aghast. “What? No. I’m not landing my fighter on your planet. I insist that we return to Amalthea II. At once.”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “I think we both know that won’t be happening. So, the protocols, if you don’t mind...”
“I do mind. If you think—”
“Erin, you have no choice.” His voice had hardened now and Erin forced herself to meet his steely gaze. He was angry, or should that be irritated? But even so he was a handsome devil. He always had been, she would admit as much although her innate attraction to the Ymirian was something she had successfully quashed throughout her entire acquaintance with him. She did not fraternize with aliens, and most decidedly not with convicts in her keeping. Such behavior would be wholly inappropriate at Amalthea II, and hardly less so now.
Despite her resolve she was unable to break his intent gaze. His hair was dark and worn to shoulder length. All Ymirians were tall, their bodies muscular, and their physical strength was well known but Ramone surpassed even the norm for his species. She knew him to be physically fit and healthy, the checks made when he entered her facility had established as much, but close up the truth of those bald facts was even more virulently evident.
He flexed his jaw as though at pains to retain his temper. Erin held her ground, determined not to allow him to intimidate her. Xyker Ramone was an imposing male, but this was her ship. And he was supposed to be her prisoner. She made another attempt to assert her authority.
“Xyker Ramone, I must insist—”
“Erin, just do as you’re fucking told. Place your palm on the sensor pad and authorize the coordinates that Zeke is about to transmit.”
“I—”
“Unless you prefer to spend a very uncomfortable few minutes over my knee with your bottom bared, I suggest you do as I say. I’m happy to start your correction now rather than on the planet and a decent spanking will help you to better comprehend your current situation, as well as convince you to stop arguing and fucking do as you’re told.”
Erin gaped at him. Surely, she had misunderstood. He hadn’t actually threatened to spank her. Had he?
“So, which is it? Your palm on the sensor or mine on your delectable bottom? I’ll count to five, then the choice is no longer yours.”
“You can’t... I mean, this is just wrong.”
“One.”
“Ramone!” She made to get up out of the seat but he prevented that with a stern shake of his head.
“Two.”
Erin clenched her buttocks and fought to disregard the unwelcome tingling between her thighs.
“Three.”
“This is ridiculous. I insist that you—”
“Four. Time’s almost up, Erin.”
She started to shake her head.
“Fi—”
“No! No, I mean yes. I’ll do it. I...” She leaned forward to extend her right hand onto the sensor plate.
Ramone grinned, his strong white teeth gleaming in the artificial light of the control deck. “Sensible girl. I knew you’d see it my way. Pity though, I’d have enjoyed indulging in a bonus spanking. Still, I can wait.” He placed his own hand beside Erin’s. “Zeke, the landing data, if you please.”
For the next few minutes conversation was restricted to only that which was necessary to set the course for entering orbit, and subsequently to locate their landing site on the planet’s surface. The procedure complete, Erin withdrew her hand from the sensor.
“What did you mean, Ramone?”
“Can you be a bit more specific, Erin?”
“I am Monitor Stein, to you. Not Erin.”
“Since you raise that matter, I am Commander Xyker Ramone of the Ymirian interstellar militia and a member of the High Council on my planet. However, you may call me Xyker. And I shall call you Erin. Now, what is the matter upon which you require clarification?”
“You mentioned my correction, on your planet. And a bonus spanking. What did you mean?”
“You destroyed a Ymirian ship and deprived us of invaluable siarnaq crystals in the process, not to mention endangering the lives of myself and my crew. Are these not matters which would attract punishment were they perpetrated against the Pan-Galactic Alliance?”
“Yes, of course. But you are not—”
“We view such crimes in exactly the same way as you do. However, our mode of punishment is swifter and less resource-intensive. You have earned yourself a hard spanking and a period of restitution and atonement.”
“I don’t understand. You can’t spank me. You have no right...”
“Do I not? I hold enforcer status on Ymir and surely my right to exact punishment for crimes committed against me or my planet is exactly the same as yours. You, or rather your Pan-Galactic Alli
ance, saw fit to incarcerate me for actions of mine which they perceived to be criminal. You are within my jurisdiction now, Erin, so I shall do likewise.”
“I don’t recognize your jurisdiction. This is—”
“Neither did I recognize yours, though that made little difference in your galaxy. Now you are in my galaxy, and the same applies.” He paused to offer her a self-satisfied smirk. “I shall enjoy providing you with the correction you so richly deserve.”
Erin’s temper flared. “And that’s the difference between us, between you and me. I would never have amused myself by ill-treating a prisoner in my custody.”
He grinned, unrepentant and unmoved. “It is not the only difference. On my planet our population is low, our resources scarce. We would never squander either by incarcerating an individual for decades, forcing them into an unproductive, wasteful existence. On Ymir punishment is swift, painful, but effective. And once administered both perpetrator and enforcer may move on. We have no use for costly penal colonies where so-called criminals while away their years in enforced idleness, guarded by others who could be better employed. So, you will accept your whipping, which I shall be pleased to deliver personally, and you will serve out your period of restitution. Then you will be free to leave. Have I made your situation suitably clear? Do you have further questions?”
Erin could only gape at him as the blood drained from her face. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, almost sick with fear as she realized he meant every word. She was to be whipped, and by this man who was at least twice her size, whose strength was legendary. And after she had been beaten she would be forced into some form of slavery. It was barbaric; she would not survive such treatment.
“Ramone... Xyker, I... please.”
“I see from your stricken expression that you have understood your situation perfectly well. You may take comfort in the knowledge that your ordeal will not be a prolonged one, unlike that which you planned for me.” He briefly scanned the forward data array. “We will be landing in under an hour. You may remain where you are, or return to your cabin. In either case I suggest you use the time until we arrive on the planet to consider your actions and prepare yourself for the consequences.”
Alien Alphas: Twenty-Three Naughty Sci-Fi Romance Novellas Page 63
