Rescuing Halin: Hissa Warrior, Book 1

by RK Munin

  Rescuing Halin

  Hissa Warriors, Book 1

  By RK Munin

  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved:

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Copyright: RK Munin, 2021

  Cover Illustration by RK Munin, 2021

  Warning: Author is dyslexic as hell.

  The editing and beta reading team: Mary Alegre, Gary Anderson, Lesa Chang, Martha Collins, Mindy Kane, and Kirstin Potter

  Feel free to contact me with questions, requests, or comments on any of my social media sites (all basic rules of human decency apply):

  Email: rkmunin@gmail.com

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  Twitter: @muninRK

  And, as with many writers, your reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, and/or Kindle help immeasurably, even if it’s just clicking on the stars.

  Thank you to all my readers!

  SYNOPSIS

  Mian Sorrow, professional independent bounty hunter, has dedicated her life to chasing down the same kind of raiders that killed her parents. When a defenseless transport gets attacked there’s no question she’s going intervene. But rescuing Halin, the handsome Hissa on board, is one thing. Being talked into a suicide mission to the Bicoma system is something else entirely.

  Against her common sense she finds herself agreeing to help the attractive Hissa warrior and acting as his personal escort to Bicoma. As they travel together, Mian finds herself getting attached to the charming male. He’s everything she likes: adventurous, skilled, fun, and fearless.

  Assuming they survive a visit to the Bicoma home world, what happens when the mission is over? What happens when she needs to go back to hunting down raiders and he returns to his people?

  She’s dedicated her life to fighting raiders. Can she give that up for love?

  This is a stand-alone 69K word novel with an HEA. There will be space battles, harrowing rescues, and lots of sexy time. This work of fiction is meant for 18+ readers only.

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this book to my mom, whom I quote here: “You’re my most favorite child. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone so talented and wonderful but still modest and kind to everyone. I’m truly blessed to have you in my life.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Halin watches the two sleep pods launch, knowing the expensive, well-engineered pods will also act as lifeboats to carry his friends and crewmates to safety. Well, he hopes it's to safety because with the three raider ships on his tail he can't be sure of anything at the moment.

  Another impact makes the ship quake around him. Cursing, he pushes the engines even harder. He knows the ship can't take much more. This is a basic tier one civilian transport. No extra shielding and no guns. The engines are already suffering, but throttling back will only get him captured sooner.

  If he was flying anything else, he’d turn around and do battle. Even the smallest ship in the Hissa military could take down at least one of those raiders. But instead of being on a military ship, he’s on a slightly modified civilian transport.

  The ship shakes again, causing the re-enforced box sitting on the floor to bump his leg. In that box is the reason he’s currently on a ship with no weapons. He wishes he’d argued more strenuously with command. He wishes he just went against their orders and had the ship retrofitted with a few guns as soon as he was outside Hissa-controlled space.

  So many wishes and nothing to show for it, as his mother would say.

  No point in pining for what he doesn’t have; he’s got raiders to get away from. He surveys the ship’s controls, status display, and holo-chart. There's not a single port, station, or planet close enough to reach. His only hope is the well-known fact that raider ships are almost always in pitiable condition. Their engines are so poorly maintained that there are stories of them suffering catastrophic failure during a chase. The one thing this shuttle has going for it is strong engines, despite the beating they’re taking from weapons fire.

  Right now, he’s staying ahead of his pursuers, barely, but enough to challenge their targeting system. Most of the hits are glancing with little to no real damage.

  An alarm shows up on console display. The engines are maxed out, and fuel is getting low. The transport wasn’t designed for this kind of hard burn for so long. He won’t have much longer before he’s dangerously low on fuel.

  His ship takes another hit, and this time it's a direct hit to an engine. He feels the ship shift violently around him, and then there’s intense burning pain in his leg. He ignores it as he watches the control console display. The ship’s computer automatically starts an emergency shut down of the damaged engine. With only one engine burning now there is no way he will be able to evade the raiders. Apparently running out of fuel is about to become the second most critical issue.

  “Transport ship designation Hope, throttle back your engines.” The voice over the open com is garbled and says something else he can't quite catch.

  Halin scrambles to the com and smacks it on, adjusting signal with his other hand. “Who is this?” he demands.

  “Gunship Fortune,” a female voice tells him, the sound clear and distinct now. “Cut your engines and don't maneuver.”

  Halin slams the throttle to the off position and cuts power to the maneuvering thrusters “Hope is no longer under power or maneuvering,” he tells her.

  Let this be real, he thinks. Please don't be a ploy by some clever raiders.

  The moment he cuts power to his engines, Fortune appears on his console display. It's small for a gunship, but bristling with weapons, many of which look like they were installed long after the ship was manufactured. Could he be lucky enough to have a gunship appear just in the nick of time and save him? He’s always been told he has incredible fortune. Is this aptly named gunship more proof? His comrades back home won’t believe him,

  If he manages to survive to tell the tale to them, that is.

  To his immense relief the gun ship flies right past him and hurls itself at the three raider ships. With a brilliant strafing run it fires on two of the raider ships with guns on either side of its hull and evades fire from the third. Rolling on its side as it passes, weapons fire from the third raider just misses the gunship and hits the broad side of the second raider ship, causing a few minor explosions. Both the pilot and the gunner on Fortune need to be complimented on their skills.

  He hears a crow of delight issue from the com and realizes the Fortune never cut the communication link with him. Halin remains silent, not wanting to accidently distract the crew of the gunship during battle.

  Instead of making a long-winded burn to come around again for another run at the raiders, the Fortune shuts both engines off and hits all maneuvering thrusters on one side, making the ship cartwheel violently. When its nose is pointed in the right direction all engines come on at full burn, shooting the ship back toward the raiders, who are only now turning enough to train weapons on the smaller craft.

  He expects another strafing run, but the Fortune doesn’t do that. Instead, it barrels at one of the raider’s ships, then hits back thrusters just before the two ships would collide. It jerks to a halt on the far side of the cluster and then flies so close to one of the
raider ships, he expects to see impact debris.

  Weapons from the raider ships are firing, but more of them are impacting each other rather than the heavily armored gunship.

  Suddenly the Fortune pulls away, burning hard away from the ship for no apparent reason. Halin can't understand what the gunship’s strategy is until the raider explodes and he understands the Fortune tossed a bomb on the ship and ran.

  Raiders are opportunistic and cowards, so it comes as no surprise to Halin when the two remaining ships turn around and run. He expects the gunship to go after them, but it wheels around and flies back to him.

  “Transport ship Hope, you're unstable. Remain calm and you'll be rescued. How many souls aboard?”

  “Only one,” Halin replies and looks down at his display. Fortune is correct, he can see the damaged engine compromised the ship’s hull integrity before it was shut down. It's only a matter of time before the entire ship succumbs and probably implodes first and then explodes. He’d rather not be onboard for either event.

  “Brace,” the woman on the Fortune tells him. “I don't have time to be gentle.”

  Halin isn't sure what she means but suddenly the entire ship jolts and he hears the scream of metal being grabbed and ripped. He looks over to see cutters making fast work of one side of his ship, and then there's a hole just large enough for him to slide through.

  “Move it!” a voice calls out over the com. “The seal is good, but we only have seconds! Get your ass in here!”

  Halin scrambles to get out of the pilot's chair and grabs the box on the floor near him. He dives through the small hole and slides down the short connecting tube into the waiting gunship. No sooner are his feet clear then the iris door of the emergency slide shuts, and he hears metal shriek as it rips and gives way.

  The Fortune shakes around him as engines are powered up. Grabbing a nearby rail, he pulls himself to his feet. A small window allows him to watch Hope disintegrate.

  First, she buckles in as the grav drive fails; then she explodes out as the fuel mixes within the ship instead of the engine. They’re just far enough away to catch a ripple from the explosion. But all it does is shake the ship around him as Gunship Fortune races away. He looks down at the box in his arm as Fortune settles. He almost died. He doesn’t know where his crewmates are, and his ship is gone, but all he can think is, That could've gone much worse.

  He waits a few moments, making sure the ship isn't going to move abruptly and knock him off his feet. When he’s reassured the gunship is done with quick maneuvering, he starts making his way to the fore, hoping to find the cockpit. He's eager to meet the crew. Maybe he can hire them to help him find his own missing people and persuade them to help him finish his mission. Or at least get him to a place where his home world can send reinforcements.

  The ship’s cramped and crowded. Boxes of ammunition, parts, and supplies are crammed everywhere and forcing him to move boxes just to make it down the corridor. His leg is bothering him, but he ignores it. He estimates he's about halfway to his destination when a small female figure appears in front of him.

  The helmet on her chest piece isn't engaged, exposing her head, so he can see her face and recognizes her as a human female. They might be on the rarer side, but he’s interacted with enough of them to not mistake her for any other species.

  The armor she’s wearing is old but well-kept and cared for. She has large green eyes, full of concern as she takes in his appearance. Her generous lips are turned down in a frown and her blond hair is pulled into a short pony tail at the back of her head that doesn't even brush the armors wide neck.

  The armor isn't the only thing she wears that is battle ready. There are blasters in holsters on her hips, several knives in sheaths on her thighs, and a sword secured at her back. None of that really startles him. He's met plenty of female warriors armed to the teeth, but what does cause him to stare is the red bundle tucked just inside the neck of her armor.

  It's a PKB, personal kill bomb, used by soldiers who fear capture and torture. As long as a warrior can move their head, they can activate the PKB and end their life along with those around them. He can understand the need for it. Anyone dealing with raiders runs the risk of capture and suffering a horrible and painful captivity. He knows the logic but finds he has an almost overwhelming urge to rip the small device away from her, along with the rest of her weapons and armor. His instincts scream at him to tuck her away some place safe where those things will never be needed.

  He probably feels that way because of the state of the Hissa civilization. Otherwise he’s sure he wouldn’t be so interested in this human female. Humans are too small. Too delicate for a Hissa warrior.

  Except she did just help save him. And he’s fighting an almost irresistible urge to find out firsthand how soft her skin is. That leads him to wonder how this little human would like to be touched. What sounds would she make?

  He shakes his head, trying to dislodge those distracting thoughts.

  While he was busy letting his mind wander far afield, she’s closed the distance between them, shoving several boxes out of her way until she’s within arm’s reach.

  “Are you injured? Did you take a blow to the head?” she asks and he realizes she's been talking to him for a while now. What’s wrong with his head that he’s having intimate thoughts about this female when there are so many more important matters to attend to. Maybe he did take a blow to the head and doesn’t remember.

  “I don't think so,” he grunts, answering her in Space Standard as he assesses the state of his body. His head doesn’t hurt. In fact, his body feels strangely free of pain. “I think I’m fine,” he says as he looks down. That’s when he notices a red stain running down the length of his leg.

  “I don't think your assessment is correct,” she mutters and hurries forward, pulling out one of her knives. When his ship was attacked, he only had time to put on the top part of his armor over his torso, he didn't have time to put on the leg or arm pieces. The burning pain he felt when the engine was hit must have been this injury.

  He watches, bemused, as she uses the knife to ripe his pants leg apart and notices with a strange detachment that there’s a chunk of metal protruding from his thigh. “Shouldn't that hurt more?”

  “It will,” she promises him grimly. “I don't have a medical suite, but I do have med supplies. I need you to walk to the bridge before you collapse. You’re too big for me to carry, and my hover cart stopped working a while back.” She cuts off the rest of the pant leg and wraps it tightly above the wound. He can feel the pressure but is surprised there's still no pain.

  His brain is starting to feel a little fuzzy, and he reaches out to touch a wall to steady himself. “I can walk,” he assures her, taking a step forward. “I won't collapse.”

  He stumbles, and she grabs his right arm and puts it over her shoulder to help steady him. His boot makes a strange squelching sound, and he realizes his shoe is full of his own blood.

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she grumbles. “One step at a time. Come on. Don't stop.”

  “I'm moving, female,” Halin assures her, despite the fact that he's not actually sure he is moving.

  He's uncertain how long they spend walking, but their progress is hampered not only by his stumbling gate, but also all the boxes she's forced to kick out of the way to allow them to pass side by side. Finally, they reach the small control room, and she props him up against a wall.

  “Stand here,” she instructs him. “Give me just a few minutes.”

  “I can stand,” he retorts. “Just help me up.”

  “You are up,” she tells him in a strangled voice, and he opens his eyes to find that he is indeed standing, but the room doesn't seem to want to be still.

  “Right, I'm standing. Go about your business, female,” he commands. “I'll wait here.”

  He closes his eyes again and concentrates on keeping himself upright. He can feel the pain now. Fire is burning his leg from the inside o
ut. As a Hissa warrior he's felt his fair share of pain and injury, but this is beyond anything he's experienced before.

  “Just a step,” the woman tells him, her hands drawing his arm over her shoulders again. Shame at his own weakness fills him, but he also feels surprise at the human’s strength. She might be small compared to him, but it’s obvious she is used to labor because she thinks nothing of grunting under his weight. She’s not as delicate as he first thought.

  She’s trying to get him to a fold-out bunk on the far side of the control room. The room’s so small the bed takes up a third of the space, so it isn’t too far away. He takes a step, but his legs start to give out from under him. She manages to guide his bulk into the bed, and with a hard thump he crashes onto the small but sturdy bunk. He rolls to his back, clasping the box tightly to his chest as the woman helps him pull his legs up into the bed. Then she lifts his wounded leg and unceremoniously shoves pillows under it.

  “That's a lot of blood,” the woman mutters darkly, and he wonders if he should apologize for making such a mess on her ship. He wants to tell her how grateful he is for her assistance but can't seem to form words any more. The pain is overwhelming, and it's all he can do to remain still and quiet.

  He feels a tug on the box. Without opening his eyes he growls and shows fang, clutching the box tightly to his chest. He hears a little gasp, and the tugging stops. His eyes must have slid closed again. He didn’t mean to close them, but now his lids feel too heavy to open back up.

  “Right, fine. You can hold on to that,” the woman tells him. Then he feels her hands on his leg. Struggling, he manages to wedge his eyes open just enough to see her examining his wound. “I'm going to have to use my nanos on you,” she tells him, eyes still focused on his injury. “I really hope you can pay me back for them later because they're expensive. Well, pay me back if you live. Otherwise, there’s no charge.”