The Space Marshal's Captive

by Jaye Peaches

  “What atrocity?” There had been many, as far as she was concerned, including the one that killed her cousin.

  Mason cleared his throat. “You’d have been a kid. Do you remember the explosion at the military hospital—”

  She did, everyone did. “That killed hundreds of soldiers and medics!”

  She’d been a child when the news reached Malimor that a hospital base on Novador had been targeted. Even those who hated the Federation considered killing wounded soldiers and unarmed civilians atrocious. The bomb was the turning point. After that, believing their regime to be under threat, the Federal authorities cancelled planned elections and imposed martial law. It had yet to be rescinded.

  “It did,” said Mason bitterly. “It led to uprisings for and against the Federation, and the fallout continues to this day.”

  “Krul was responsible?”

  “He’s a terrorist and part of the group that organized it. Many have been captured, but he remains at large. He’s a fanatic and disowned by his own people. He’s been hiding on Kathamu for years, unable to go home.”

  Jade could appreciate why Mason didn’t want her to join him. But, now she didn’t want him to go at all, not if Krul was that dangerous. “Lizard men are slower,” she said. “They need a warm sun to survive. He’ll have to find somewhere by water and in the sun to survive.”

  “He’s highly intelligent. Crafty,” he mused, drumming his fingers on his arms.

  “Please let me come,” she pleaded.

  Mason gathered her into arms and she rested her head on his shoulder. The request was futile; he didn’t even bother to answer it.

  “If, and this is just an if. If I don’t come back—” he pressed his finger to her lips, preventing her from crying out in alarm, “—then take this ship to the nearest Federation-controlled port and hand it over. You’re registered as my crew. Tell the authorities I’m likely to be on Kathamu. They’ll send out a rescue party, although, let’s be honest, there might not be anything left to rescue.” He grinned, but she couldn’t find a jot of humor in what he was saying.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  “Shush. I’m going to be careful, this is just a precaution. So,” he continued, “make sure Callo and Curtis are detained, then go wherever you have to go. Don’t hang around for questions.”

  Jade brushed away the unshed tears and nodded. “I’ll go home to my parents. Hand myself in and take the consequences. I can’t go on the run or hide on strange planets.”

  “You said you were estranged from them because of your plans to leave Malimor?”

  “I’m their daughter. Love is forever,” she reminded him.

  He lowered his lips, nudging them gently against her mouth, and peppered it with sweet kisses. She opened up her heart to him and felt the familiar tingle of anticipation flutter across her breasts as they embraced.

  Later, when she collected her clothes off the mess floor, she was too floaty to worry about Krul. Mason’s warm cum trickled down her inner thighs and she tasted it on her lips, too. He led her by the hand to his quarters. He promised more over the coming days, plenty more. Distracting her with sex was his aim and it was working.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mason swatted another fly off his nose. He hated the sweltering heat and the swarms of insects bombarding his head. According to his scans, humidity was up to about ninety percent and the temperature was ridiculously high for a man acclimatized to an ice planet.

  Jade had warned him sticky heat was horrible—he was drenched in sweat and all he could think about was snow falling. She’d never seen snow. He would like to rectify that situation one day.

  “Drink plenty,” she’d advised. Fortunately for her, Malimor was different to Kathamu—mostly dry heat and no rainforests—so she’d little further advice to give him other than watch his back.

  He followed the track, which was only just visible, and used a stick to beat aside any vegetation. It had been a few hours since he landed the Steadfast in an area of cleared jungle, probably once a village, but the occupants had moved on.

  He scanned the route ahead with a motion tracker, watching and listening for anything resembling a lizard man. However, everything moved in the jungle and it was so damn noisy, too. Birds, monkeys, and chirping insects blended into a continuous cacophony.

  In the distance, the undergrowth cleared and the path grew wider. He encountered a network of paths and fresh footprints—barefoot humanoids. He examined the dirt for claw marks or boots—nothing so obvious.

  The jungle thinned out and he squinted in the bright sunlight—another village and this one were occupied. The huts were on stilts to keep out vermin and the field plowed, ready for a crop. A few screaming women scooped up the infants and hurtled indoors as Mason approached.

  “Hello,” he called out. “I mean you no harm.”

  The women and children had vanished, but the bare-chested men, whose stature was considerably shorter than Mason’s, stood armed with bows and spears, forming a line. The nearest man, who wore a ring of vines around his head, stepped forward.

  Unfortunately, Mason didn’t understand a word of their language. He tried to impersonate what Krul might look like, but his mimicry proved disastrous. The men snarled at him, raising their weapons. Mason could easily pick them off with his gun, but for what purpose? He needed friends, not more enemies.

  Backing away, he disappeared into the undergrowth and continued his trek toward the river. It had to be close by because the villagers would need a source of water.

  Annoyed with his inability to communicate, Mason marched along the path and took another swig out of his water bottle. He’d drunk more than he anticipated and had little left. The river was becoming essential.

  Jade would have coped better with the heat and the humidity. Before he’d left Titan, he asked her to coat his pale skin in sun protection cream and she’d obliged him, humming to herself with a smile as she massaged it into his skin. Unwilling to deny her, his cock had hardened. She’d gone on to perform another duty, kneeling at his feet, milking his cum and offering him a brief respite.

  Leaving her on the interceptor was tough. Both of the options open to him—leaving her up there or bringing her down—weren’t appealing and he’d chosen the one least likely to put her in danger. He’d expected her initial disapproval and also her acquiescence, which she’d duly given and he welcomed it. So much about her pleased him beyond his wildest expectations. It was hard to believe that a girl from Malimor could bring him such happiness. The Stratum had failed him, but not Jade.

  She didn’t cry when he kissed her goodbye. He remained positive about the outcome of his mission. Since he’d landed on Kathamu, on the hour, every hour, he’d sent her a brief message. Text only, since the atmospheric conditions weren’t helping the transmission of images. She’d responded with an obedient, ‘yes, sir.’

  A new sound was discernible. Something different in the mix—flowing water. The river couldn’t be far and he quickened his pace, paying little attention to where he walked.

  The ground opened up and swallowed him. He fell in a black hole and landed with cracking thump on his backpack. Leaves and thin branches tumbled on top of him, covering his face.

  Mason spluttered, fighting off the foliage. Lying on his back, he stared up, blinking away the dirt in his eyes. He was in a pit, a dugout twice his height and not much wider than the span of his outstretched arms. The opening had been covered and he’d fallen straight through the branches.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, annoyed at his stupid mistake.

  Gingerly, he eased himself into a sitting position and checked for injuries. There would be bruises and scratches, especially along his bare arms, but otherwise, he’d not broken any bones.

  Standing up, he reached up and felt along the damp walls for anything to grip—a root, a rock. The dirt broke away, crumbling between his fingers and he realized if he tried to climb out, he risked having a landslide and burying himself in it.


  He had plenty of food, but water was an issue. He’d have to ration himself.

  Crouching down, he rummaged around for the communicator. He needed to explain to Jade what had happened so she wouldn’t worry or attempt a rescue. He suspected the trap was a device for capturing animals and used by the villagers. Somebody would come eventually to check it.

  It wasn’t there. He dug deeper into the corners of the bag and concluded the device had probably fallen out when he triggered the trap.

  He sat on the debris and cursed. Now he had to wait. Of course, his assumption about the villagers being the perpetrators could be wrong. There were other possibilities—the trap could have been set not by them but by the bounty hunters or worse, Krul himself.

  So who would get to him first?

  * * *

  Hours had passed since his last message. Jade’s levels of anxiety had gone from mild concern to outright panic. She paced the flight deck, checking every few seconds for a message, but the screens remained blank.

  Her instructions were to fly to Novador and hand in the fugitives, then herself. It seemed a reasonable option prior to his departure, but now not knowing if Mason was dead or alive, it was impossible to comply with the command.

  Obedience was fine when things were calm and running to plan, but if he believed she could sit idly by and forget him, then he was mistaken. In the heat of the moment she wasn’t worrying about obedience, only that she loved Mason too much to simply abandon him to his fate.

  How to help him? Find him?

  She sent one more message—I’m coming to find you—then made a decision. She needed a shuttle and there were two docked: Stealth, which was too badly damaged to use, and Callo’s little speeder, which had been battered during her attempted escape. She went to inspect the damage.

  It didn’t take long to determine the hull was intact, if a little dented, and the controls for flying the ship were functioning. However, she had to spend time running checks, recalibrating systems, and ensuring it was capable of landing and taking off again. She plotted a route to the last known position of Mason, the location of his communicator, which was transmitting a beacon.

  The planet’s surface was covered in jungle and she needed a landing platform for the craft, somewhere flat and clear. The recon system identified an appropriate location—a clearing, possibly some kind of cultivation. It meant there were natives nearby, but she had to chance that they were friendly.

  She went to the Titan’s armory, selected an arsenal of weaponry, and stuffed the guns in a bag, along with food, water bottles, and a medical kit. Heaving the bag onto her shoulder, she returned to the docking bay and released the locks securing the shuttle. With one last look around the bay, she entered the airlock and closed the door behind her.

  A day had passed since she’d last heard from Mason and what kept her going was the belief that he was still alive. She felt the ache in her soul, the core of her being, and until she was convinced otherwise, she wasn’t going to doubt that ache meant something.

  Relying on another burst of adrenaline, which had kept her going with little sleep and food, she dismissed the nagging headache and rumbling stomach, fired up the rockets, and released the docking clamps.

  Jade had a little time to familiarize herself with the controls; however, the autopilot did the hard work for her as it flew the vessel through the planet’s atmosphere and cloud cover. Emerging into the skies about the jungle, the little shuttle swerved between the peaks of the trees until it came to the clearing. It was a field and next to it a village.

  The villagers ran away as the shuttle bumped onto the ground. The landing gear held out, as had the damaged hull. She’d made it down. Whether it would take off again was a different matter. For now, she had other things to worry about—the natives.

  She climbed out of the shuttle and felt the heat of the day. The sticky air immediately glued itself to her bare arms.

  The women hid in the shadows of the huts, while the men lurked by the stilts clutching their spears. Dragging the bag over her shoulders, the weight of it causing her to hunch, she cautiously walked toward the nearest building.

  She needed their help. They might have seen Mason, possibly the other men, too, but she only cared about Mason. She dropped the bag on the dirt and crouched down, making herself small, as little threat as possible.

  Picking up a stick, she began to draw a picture in the dirt. Three of the men were curious, including one with vines around his forehead, and they edged forward, close enough to see what she drew. They pointed and chatted in their own tongue, waving in the direction of the trees.

  “Him? You saw him?” she asked slowly. She tapped the ground where she’d drawn a rudimentary Mason complete with tattoos on his arms.

  Again they pointed to one side of the field, to a path disappearing into the jungle.

  She guessed he’d come this way and gone on.

  Alongside the figure of Mason, Jade outlined another. She had only seen images in databases and libraries, having never met one in real life, but she gave it her best shot—a lizard man with sharp teeth and claws.

  The men gasped, then growled, waving the spears around their heads. They pointed back to where Mason had gone.

  Jade made a point of stabbing the image of Krul with her stick and grimacing, as if to indicate she hated him. It worked; the natives grinned, crept forward and joined in, until the outline had been obliterated.

  With Mason she had to show them something different. She put down her stick, kissed the palm of her hand and placed it on the crude sketch of his face.

  The men lowered the spears and muttered to each other. Then they seemed to call to Jade, gesticulating with the arms for her to follow them. She picked up the bag and walked in their direction, keeping a safe distance. The lead man with the vines coiled around his head took her to where the trees gathered and the start of a track.

  The guttural noises they made deep in their throats didn’t seem threatening; neither did their facial expressions, which had lost their fear.

  “You want me to go this way?” she asked, knowing they wouldn’t understand a word, but it was important for them to hear her voice, especially the encouraging tone.

  She followed them for an hour, weighed down by the backpack and the heat. However, she couldn’t give up now. They’d seen Mason and it meant he had been alive when he’d left their village.

  Something glinted on the ground, a metallic reflection. She bent over and picked up the device—his communicator. He’d dropped it. The lead man stopped. Right by his feet was a hole.

  Jade crept toward the edge and peered down. Curled up at the bottom was Mason. He wasn’t moving.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Mason?” she called out cautiously.

  He lifted his head, his eyes blinked a few times, then he sat up.

  “Jade?” he answered, his voice a croak.

  “Oh, Mason! I’ve found you.” She crouched down and tried to reach out to him with her hand. “Can you get it?”

  He rose to his feet and stretched out to touch her, but the distance was too great.

  She turned to the natives. “Please. Help.”

  One of the men cut down a vine and tied it to the base of the tree, then threw the end down into the pit.

  Jade waited to see if Mason had the strength to haul himself out. The other men helped, pulling on the rope as he clambered up the sides. Just as he reached the top, the sides of the pit disintegrated, sending dirt flying. From out of the bloom of dust emerged Mason to stand on firm ground.

  She ran into his arms and he held her tight, breathing heavily with rasping breaths.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she wept, burrowing her nose into his vest, not caring about anything. She succeeded in her mission—she’d found Mason and he was alive.

  He brushed aside her hair and tilted her head back. She hoped for a kiss, but his lips were cracked.

  “Water,” Mason whispered.

/>   He drank a whole bottle before he spoke again. “How?” he croaked. “How did you get here?”

  “Callo’s ship. I fixed a few problems with the stabilizer and landed near the village. They helped me.” She nodded in the direction of the three men, who waited in the shadows of the trees, still nervous about Mason, who easily towered over their slight, athletic forms.

  Jade’s stomach churned with both delight at finding her lover and trepidation at his response to her disobedience. He continued to regain his composure, gradually stretching out his hunched form, although the dirt clung to his skin and clothes. She handed him the communicator, which he examined, noting the numerous messages of concern she’d sent over the previous day.

  “I dropped it when I fell in the trap,” he explained, his gruff voice losing its dryness.

  “I couldn’t leave you here,” she said, opting for the simplest explanation.

  “So I see,” he noted wryly, then pulled a face, letting his displeasure seep out. “Now isn’t the time to discuss it.” He brushed down his clothes before inspecting the contents of the bag she’d brought. He nodded at her choice of weapons, then packed them away again.

  He cocked his head at the natives. “You don’t speak their language, so how—”

  “No, but I can draw in the dirt.” She gave a little shrug.

  Mason frowned. “They ran away from me.”

  “I got lucky,” she added, trying to play down her success.

  “Lucky, yes,” he said with brevity. He had shadows etched under his eyes. He needed proper sleep and food.

  “They know about Krul. They don’t like him either.” She told him about the drawing and how they’d scrubbed it out.

  “Where is he?” Mason asked.

  “Somewhere near here.”

  “The river is close.”

  The water churned and the air did seem slightly cooler, helped by a gentle breeze.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “You need to rest. Sir,” she added. She had to prove to him that she was still his to command.