Slag: Book Four in the Galaxy Pirates Alien Abduction Romance Series (Shifter)

by Alana Khan

  “How are you going to help us?” a large colorful humanoid asks. He has fierce markings all over his black and red body.

  “Do you need shelter?”

  “Yes, until the weather dies down enough for my ship to pick us up,” the male says.

  “We can show you to our small cave. It rests on stone and is surrounded by stone. You’re welcome to stay if you leave your weapons outside.”

  “How do you know this guy?” Elyse asks, her eyes flicking to Slag.

  “I’ve known him for about a month. He doesn’t speak, but he’s the kindest male I’ve ever met, and he’s saved my life a dozen times. You can trust him with your life,” I say as I inch closer to him and sneak my fingers into his huge hand. He grips me tight, as if I’m a lifeline. Standing here in the raging wind and blowing sand is costing him.

  Slag suddenly drops my hand and points into the distance, past the group we’re talking to. I read his body language well enough to know he’s not pointing out a threat.

  He turns and places the flat of his palm on my upper chest, a clear message for me not to take another step forward, then he strides toward the group of armed aliens. Skirting them, he keeps walking until he reaches someone or something.

  Bending down, he reaches out his hand and emerges from the miasma with a tiny, four-armed female in tow. Dear God, he has It. She must have escaped from Sooma Ryone.

  I hear a rumble far off to the right. The worms are slithering under the surface of the soil again.

  “Slag, come on,” I yell. He’s the one with the best sense of when we’re on rocky ground. I need him to safely get us all to our cave.

  Slag and I grab hands. At first, he pulls me, but by the time we near our cave, I’m pulling him.

  He motions for our company to have our bed, but I shake my head and order him to lie down.

  “He was pursued by some huge animal earlier today,” I lie. I don’t want these strangers to know just how defenseless we are. “He shouldn’t have run so hard.”

  After quick introductions, I get a good look at the crew in our cave. There’s It, as well as Elyse and her mate Wrage. The two black and red males say their race is Primian. Thantose is the captain of their ship, Devolose is his cousin. Sextus is the big sky-blue male with cobalt-blue tribal markings—he looks like pure muscle. He has more weapons than the other guys put together.

  Glancing at Slag I see he’s looking at me. I know he’s feeling terrible, but he’s using tremendous effort to stay awake. Grabbing my hand, he brings it to his lips.

  “K,” he says. It’s the first sound he’s uttered other than moans of pleasure since I’ve known him. As certainly as I know that two plus two equals four, I know he’s trying to say my name.

  “Yep. KJ,” I whisper, my lips turned upward in a smile despite the shitty circumstances.

  I lean, my lips touching his ear, “We’re going to get you better, Slag. One day you’re going to say my name. Maybe when you come.” I scrape my teeth along his earlobe. When I pull away and glance at him, though, he’s already dozed off.

  We hear the underground worms outside our little safety zone. It’s like they’re butting their rounded heads against the very stone that protects us, trying to pound their way through.

  “Wraiths,” It says.

  “What?”

  “Master . . . Sooma Ryone called them wraiths. Said they’re always writhing underground, but every seven annums they mature and rise up and race underneath the planet’s crust looking to feed. He said they’re relentless. He thought they were coming next annum. He’d planned to be off-planet by then, after he’d made his fortune.

  “He threatened me with them. Said if I didn’t do better he’d leave me here to be eaten.”

  “The fucker’s dead,” Thantose says with satisfaction. “My mate was treated badly by males like him. I’m glad Wrage killed him, just wish it had been me.”

  A month ago I would have found his comment tasteless. Today I’m glad. I had been terrified he’d eventually come after me.

  “What’s your name?” Elyse asks It. “We can’t call you . . . the other name one more time.”

  Her gaze dips shyly to the ground as she says, “Allura.”

  I’ll bet it’s been a while since anyone has called her that.

  “Welcome, Allura. Allura’s a beautiful name.” Elyse turns to Thantose and asks, “Is Allura welcome aboard your ship?”

  “Absolutely. Allura, you’ll be safe aboard. We have three females there who will be happy to have you.”

  Every head in the cave snaps toward the entrance when the wraiths increase their scuffling and pounding.

  Elyse explains that she and Wrage were prisoners in Sooma Ryone’s fighting Pits. By a stroke of luck, they were out of their cells and in the mansion when the wraiths converged there earlier today. The three pirates happened to be visiting, selling a valuable antique sword to Ryone. Wrage killed the walking snake, Sextus killed the guards, and they ran for their lives until we all met up.

  “And us, Captain?” I ask. “Are we welcome aboard your ship?”

  Thantose’s eyes narrow and his jaw hardens as he pointedly inspects Slag.

  Slag might not speak, but he’s woken up and right now he seems to hear and understand perfectly. He shakes his head and motions as he tries to press himself into the rock behind his back. His meaning is clear—‘You go, I’ll stay.’

  “He’s been like this since you’ve known him?” Thantose asks.

  “By ‘like this’ you mean kind? Protective? Putting my needs ahead of his? Yes, yes, and yes.” I spear Thantose with an accusing gaze. “Please take us both with you, Captain. I’ll die here, and I can’t leave him on this planet alone. He’s done too much to help me.”

  The captain considers for long moments, then says, “Yes. You’re all coming aboard. We have a brig and I’ll put anyone in it who threatens the safety of my ship or her crew. Clear?”

  I nod, then glance at Slag. He’s already dozed off again. The trek to rescue these people was too much for him. A lesser male wouldn’t have left the comfort and safety of our cave. I grab his hand. He’s not a lesser male.

  I always thought pirates were thugs and opportunists, but this bunch seems to mean us no harm. And frankly, no matter who these people are, they’re our only ticket off this rock.

  “Marcus,” Thantose barks into his wrist-comm, “when can you get us off this fucking planet?” He turns to us while he awaits an answer and winks as he says, “There’s something I love about your Earther curse word.”

  The winds howl and the wraiths butt against the rock for long hours, but eventually the winds die down and we’re escorted onto the pirate ship, the Ataraxia. They tell me it means serene calm. That’s a nice fantasy.

  We’re met in the gangway by two armed males who eye Slag with apprehension, but Thantose tells them to stand down.

  “None of these people want to harm us, but we’ll need a hover-stretcher. The big male is sick.”

  My head snaps toward him.

  “You can’t lie to a pirate, KJ. I’m too good at it myself. Chased by a huge predator, my ass,” he says. “That male needs medical attention.”

  “You knew that and you brought us aboard anyway?” I ask, my eyes wide.

  “We’re pirates, not monsters,” he replies with a wink.

  When Slag sags onto the hover-stretcher without argument, I know exactly how sick he must be. He’s not the type of male who would allow that kind of help unless he was in dire need.

  While he’s being examined in medbay by Seneca, a medic of the same race as Captain Thantose and his cousin Devolose, the three Earth females converge into the hallway where I’m waiting.

  Thantose’s mate, Brin, introduces herself, Lexa, blue Sextus’s mate, and Tawny, Devolose’s mate. They tell me they’ve got jobs here on the ship and are having a blast flying through the stars and going on capers.

  “Capers? Really? Like a plot out of a TV show?” I ask, my eyes w
ide. This is all so much to take in.

  “We’re pirates! We steal shit and trick people,” Tawny exclaims. “The parts of the galaxy I’ve seen aren’t full of warm, fuzzy people. We only steal from folks who deserve it. We’re like Robin Hood’s merry band!”

  “I’ll admit, I haven’t met a lot of good people either,” I tell her. “Except for Slag.” My eyes dart to the door just in time for the medic to invite me in.

  Instead of telling me about Slag’s condition, he uses a Star Trek type of scanning device to assess me.

  “You were right when you said you thought he had radiation poisoning. It’s not exactly radiation, but it’s similar. You both have it. I suspect Wrage and Elyse have it too, but they weren’t in the mines like you and Slag, so their levels won’t be as high,” he says without sugarcoating anything. I guess working on this ship full of pirates gives him license to tell it like it is.

  “Slag is far sicker than you, but based on the levels in your body and the amount of time you were exposed, you wouldn’t have survived more than a week. Let me explain the treatment.”

  “Okay,” I say after he’s explained that he’ll inject us both with a chemical that binds with the radiation ions. The radioactive ions then pass out of the body when we urinate.

  “I’ll be honest,” he says as his eyes dart from mine, “I don’t expect Slag to live. My equipment is very familiar with human physiology because of all the females on board. I can tailor the treatment to be most effective for you and Elyse. I can formulate a specific compound for Wrage because the database is replete with information on his race of Wryth’Ns. I have no data for Slag.” He shakes his head sadly.

  “We don’t know where he’s from. There’s no information in my medical database. I can’t get an accurate reading on his DNA. It keeps shifting. Maybe the ions have affected him down to a cellular level. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll keep working on adjusting the chemical formula, but his levels are so far off baseline I don’t have much hope for your mate.”

  For a split second, my thoughts get stuck on his use of the term mate. It’s a much better thing to contemplate than the news he just delivered. I want to scold him for being pessimistic and for saying such a thing, but I clamp my lips together. He’s just doing his job.

  What he said just rocked my world. I don’t want Slag to die. He’s my friend. Admit it, KJ, he’s so much more than a friend.

  My world slows down as I contemplate the medic’s words. My heart clenches and my vision blurs as I imagine a world without Slag. We’ve grown too close for me to lose him now.

  “Thanks for the warning, but . . .” I almost just insisted he’s not going to die. I’ll keep those thoughts to myself.

  “The females set up a room for you. Why don’t you check it out, make sure you have everything you’ll need. Once you start the treatments, you’re not going to want to do much other than piss, sleep, eat, vomit, and drink copious amounts of water.”

  Alright. I think Seneca is growing on me. You have to admire his direct approach.

  “I’ll bring your mate in a few minutes and administer the first dose to you in your room.”

  The women are still waiting for me in the hallway. They look worried.

  “Is he going to be alright?”

  “We both have a form of radiation sickness. Slag is sicker than me. We start therapy soon. The doc told me to make sure everything we’ll need is in our room. He says we’re in for a bumpy ride.”

  They accompany me to a roomy cabin that’s maybe twelve by eighteen. There’s a pretty blue bedspread on a bed big enough for two, a desk, and a dresser. A bathroom with a shower and running water adjoins it.

  “Why don’t you take a shower first?” Brin suggests. “We’ll leave you alone. I imagine you’re starved.”

  “I’ve had nothing to eat in the last month except for three nutrition bars and some fruit. I’m famished, and I doubt I’m going to have much of an appetite after the treatments the doc is about to administer.”

  “I’m on it,” Lexa says as she dashes out.

  An hour later, I’ve eaten and joined Slag in bed. He took a few bites before his head lolled against the pillow. The doc made a housecall where he dosed us with the chemical the irradiated ions are supposed to bond with. He wasn’t kidding when he said we wouldn’t want to eat. I’m nauseous already, but I do manage to keep down the food I just ate.

  ~.~

  “You’ve had your last treatment,” the doc says after conducting one of his twice-daily med-scans. “Your radiation readings aren’t down to zero, but they’ll dissipate naturally over the next few weeks. You’ll be fine.”

  When he pauses, I know the next bit of news isn’t going to be good.

  “And Slag?”

  “His numbers are reducing. He has the most amazing liver and kidneys I've ever seen. It’s undoubtedly the reason he survived in the mines for so many years. But to be honest they’re really struggling to eliminate such a high load of toxins.

  “He was in survival mode for a long time. Like a long-distance runner who keeps pushing until they reach their destination then when they no longer have to keep running they collapse. That is what happened to Slag. I’ll keep giving him treatments, but since my scanners can’t get an accurate read on him, I’m not sure he’ll improve.”

  “He’s going to get better. You’re just a pessimist, doc.” I don’t know what the medic’s gadgets say, but I see subtle signs of improvement. Slag follows me with his eyes sometimes and smiles at me. Sometimes he mumbles, which he didn’t do before. I think the doc’s wrong. I’m convinced he’s getting better.

  “We’re docking with the gladiator’s ship in a few minutes,” Seneca says, possibly more to change the subject than to remind me why the ship has stopped moving.

  During the past week, when I managed to force myself out of our cabin to grab some food and socialize, I learned that these pirates met a ship full of gladiators a while back.

  Wrage and Elyse got separated from these same gladiators before they wound up on Rhoid. The two ships are reuniting today. After the ships connect, Wrage and Elyse will fly off with them.

  Slag, Allura, and I have chosen to take Thantose up on his generous offer to stay on board the Ataraxia. I like everyone here, and Seneca may be an eternal pessimist, but he’s given Slag and I excellent care.

  After heartfelt goodbyes to Wrage and Elyse, I enter our cabin to see Slag wide awake and fully alert for the first time in days.

  “K,” he says, his eyes bright and happy to see me.

  “Slag!” I hurtle onto the bed and snuggle next to him. “I missed you. Do you hurt?”

  He nods.

  “But you’re awake. Maybe you’re getting better.”

  He nods again.

  “Are your thoughts clearer?”

  He nods and smiles. “K.”

  “You bet your ass, big guy.” I’m full to bursting with relief that he’s awake and trying to communicate.

  The next few days are full of emotional ups and downs. Slag is still low on energy and sleepy all the time. He says my full name frequently now and speaks his language in halting little phrases.

  When Seneca realized Slag was finally able to talk, he recorded him, then entered it into the Intergalactic Database. It was able to identify the planet he is from, but because it’s so primitive very little is documented about his people or his culture. Unfortunately, there have been enough of his race stolen from their planet that it’s included in most standard translators. This explains why he understands us and we can now understand him.

  Watching him emerge from the brain fog he’s been hidden under has been a treat. I’ve always known he’s smart, but this male is really quick-witted. As sick as he is, he’s cracked a few jokes. I laugh harder than I should, they’re not that funny, but I’m just so thrilled he’s thinking clearly.

  “Hungry?” I ask as I waltz through our door, my arms full of a tray laden with food.

  “
Maybe,” he answers, his hand on his stomach making slow circles.

  “I had my last treatment days ago and I still get the swirlies from time to time. But you should eat something. I brought broth.”

  I pull the chair to his side of the bed, butt my hip next to it, and get ready to feed him as I’ve done since we arrived.

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  A spike of happiness jolts through me. He’s definitely on the road to recovery if he won’t allow me to feed him anymore.

  I tuck in to a mystery meat sandwich. It didn’t take me long to realize that in space every meat is mystery meat. Even as I chew, I can’t force my happy smile off my face. Against astronomical odds, Slag’s getting better!