Razar

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by Starr Huntress


  Trying not to think of how awkward our first meeting would be, I directed my mind someplace else. It didn’t help. These thirty days were going to derail my mission—I had been setting up listening satellites all over Rippers’ space, and not a single one of them had been found so far—and that thought never really left my mind.

  In the end, I just focused on the docking procedures.

  It had been a long time since my last stop in Tarkun IV’s spaceport, and I knew the officials there were pretty strict about docking procedure, all with the important assholes that went through the port on a daily basis.

  Sitting comfortably in the pilot’s chair, I switched controls from automatic to manual. On the viewscreen, the spaceport grew until it occupied my entire field of vision. It was a gigantic contraption of rotating rings, hundreds of ships flying in and out from the hangars like wasps guarding their nest.

  “Bluefire One requesting clearance to dock,” I said, pressing the button that connected me to the spaceport’s control room. My ship’s name wasn’t Bluefire One—no way I’d ever use such a lame name—but it still checked out. I was a black-ops operative, and that meant all information concerning my job had to be kept under wraps. I even doubted that the spaceport knew I was en route.

  Slowly, I led the ship around the concentric rings and then dipped down toward the hangar’s open mouth. I was expecting to see the transport that left the Earth Solar System already docked there, but it was nowhere to be seen. That was odd. According to my sensors, the transport had at least thirty minutes on me, so they should have already been here.

  I paused my descent into the hangar and hit the comms button.

  “This is Bluefire One,” I said. “I’m about to dock on Hangar 17B and I just noticed the Pluto flight isn’t here yet. Any information on that?” For a moment I only heard the crackle of static, and then came the hesitant voice of some rookie traffic controller.

  “I’m getting Alert messages from the automated defense mechanism.” From the way he was speaking, I could tell he had just pulled up the flight log. “Oh fuck. There’s a Ripper capital ship that’s been spotted!. A military patrol has just been dispatched and—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I growled, and immediately shut the comms off. I pulled away from the hangar and, as soon as I had put enough distance between the spaceport and the ship, I diverted all power to the engines. Soon enough I was cutting through space like a sharp knife through a Rippers’ belly, the sudden increase in g-force keeping me pushed against the seat.

  I didn’t like what I had heard, and I knew I had to move fast. No Ripper activity had been recorded in this sector for at least a decade, and it made no sense for the Pluto transport to come across one of their ships randomly. No, the Rippers had to be targeting that transport.

  Ten minutes later and I was zooming past the military patrol the spaceport had dispatched. Most of their ships had brand new fuselage, but the drives and engines powering them didn’t hold a candle to what my ship could do. I piloted a stealth frigate, which I had customized into a deadly fighting scalpel, and I was pretty sure no ship this side of the galaxy stood a chance against me. The best part was that the frigate came equipped with enough space to hold quarters, a cargo bay, and other aspects of a normal capital class ship so I didn’t have to cramp my style to fight the Rippers.

  It didn’t take long before the military patrol disappeared from my sensors. I had put so much distance between us that I could no longer pick up their signals. That meant trouble—if I could no longer pick up their signals, then I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to follow the Pluto transport for much longer.

  It was just me now.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I muttered, struggling to catch up with the transport. The ship was moving fast, and it was clear as day that whoever was piloting it was pushing the damn thing to the limit. A few more minutes of that and the engine would start to sputter and die. Knowing time was of the essence, I kicked some more power into my dual engines and I finally started closing the gap.

  When the Pluto transport finally came into sight, its power exhaust was almost iridescent, a clear cut sign that they were in deep shit. Behind them flew a Rippers’ light fighter, taunting them with steady torpedo-fire, and that was enough for a grin to spread across my lips.

  “Alright, motherfuckers,” I whispered, my hands on the weapons’ controls. “Let’s have some fun.”

  Natalie

  This wasn’t good.

  The seatbelt was digging into my chest hard enough to make it feel as if my ribs were going to crack, and I was being slammed into my seat. I didn’t know much about space travel, but I sure as hell could feel that the ship was being pushed past its limitations. The damn thing was rattling like a can someone had kicked down the road, and it rocked so suddenly I half-expected us to blow up anytime now.

  I had been dreaming of lounging on a tropical beach, a fruity cocktail in my hands, but I was now trapped inside Titanic’s space remake. If that was the case, though, where the hell was my DiCaprio? I only had two FBI agents—or whatever the hell they were—with me, and they didn’t look particularly capable of saving the day.

  Crewmen ran back and forth over and over again, looking as disoriented as I was, but the two agents that had brought me here remained glued to their seats. They had put on their seatbelts and, even though I didn’t have a clear line of sight, I was pretty sure they were holding hands. Sweet, but not entirely comforting. At all.

  “What the hell is going on?” I cried out one more time, raising my voice so that I could be heard over the growl of the engine. Agent Krazinski shifted in his seat, and he looked back at me over one shoulder. He was livid.

  “There’s a Ripper ship on our tail,” he replied, doing a mighty effort not to let any fear show in his voice. It worked, but only up to a certain point.

  “You told me this was going to be safe,” I protested, struggling to get the words out. My lungs felt like two balloons about to pop, the pressure on my chest so much that I could barely breathe. “This doesn’t feel safe to me.”

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he continued, and his voice trembled a little. “I don’t remember the last time the Rippers showed up in this sector. This doesn’t make any sense.” He was about to continue speaking when another explosion rocked the ship, and he was slammed back against his seat. “Jesus Christ. We’re going to die here.”

  “What?”

  “I said it’s going to be fine,” he lied. Bastard. “I’m sure Tarkun has already dispatched a military patrol. They’ll be here in about…” He hesitated as he looked down at his datapad, a see-through device that looked like a regular tablet, and then pursed his lips so tightly they turned white. “They’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

  It was another lie, as whatever he had seen on his datapad had drained what little color still remained in his face. The two agents were scared shitless and, by the looks of it, so was the entire crew. I didn’t know much about the Rippers, but it was pretty evident that everyone was afraid of them.

  Suddenly, the cockpit door slid open, and two men marched down the aisle. They wore bland grey uniforms; right above their hearts was some kind of ID tag and, below it, a small badge with golden wings. They didn’t look at either me or the agents as they walked past us.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Krazinski cried out, but the pilots didn’t even slow down. They simply kept on going until they disappeared out of sight. “Holy shit, this isn’t good.”

  “What’s happening?” I asked, even though I had an idea of what the situation was: the pilots were jumping ship. The secret partnership between the Jorkan and the Earth governments didn’t just end always at mates. Sometimes human pilots with enough classified clearance were sent to train with us, in the event of a worst case scenario where their efforts would be needed. But the efficacy of such a program was illustrated just now, when the pilots were abandoning the mission. So much for the bravery of
the human race. No wonder we depended on these Jorkan guys to keep Earth safe.

  “What’s happening is that it’s time for us to bail,” Krazinski replied, jumping out of his seat so fast you’d think he had coiled springs under the sole of his shoes. He helped Starmer out from his seat and, right when he was doing it, the ship jerked once more. The two men were flung down the aisle, and they hit one of the concave walls as hard as a wrecking ball.

  Once they were back on their feet, Starmer had to lean against Krazinski so that he could remain standing up. They dragged themselves until they were beside me, and then Starmer unclipped my seatbelt.

  “What are you doing?” I cried out, not excited about the prospect of being flung around like a pinball. Immediately, I started putting my seat belt back on. “I’d rather stay in my seat, thank you very much. Where are you going?”

  “In case you didn’t notice, the ship’s pilots just bailed on us,” he replied. “Unless you want the Rippers to turn you into minced meat, I’d suggest you come with us. This ship is rigged with a fairly decent system of escape pods and—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, the ship jerked again, and the pair tumbled down the aisle. I gripped the armrests so tightly that my knuckles turned white and, miraculously, I stopped the same thing from happening to me. Still, Starmer was right—if the pilots were no longer behind the ship’s controls, it’d be suicide for me to remain on this seat. Whether I liked it or not, it was time for me to leave.

  Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself off the seat once the ship started rocking. Carefully, I made my way toward the two agents, and the three of us ambled to the back of the ship. We entered what seemed like a cargo hold, except there was no cargo here—the room was completely empty, although the walls were lined with dozens of circular holes roughly the size of a manhole cover.

  “Get in, Natalie,” Starmer said, pushing me toward one of those holes.

  “What? I’m not getting in there.”

  “Yes, you are,” he insisted, still pointing at the hole. “The Rippers are going to blow this ship up. If we want to survive, we’ll have to eject.”

  “Is it...safe?”

  “Stupid questions will only get stupid answers,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation, and that was all that I needed to know: there was nothing safe about ejecting from a spaceship while under attack.

  Before I had the time for a follow-up question, Starmer placed one hand on my lower back and shoved me into the hole. I tumbled headfirst, my knees hitting the plastic surface with a dull thud, and I found myself sliding down a never-ending tunnel. I’m not proud to admit it, but I screamed as hard as I could.

  I crash-landed onto a padded seat, and self-moving straps immediately wrapped themselves around my shoulders and waist. A lid slid over the hole I had come through, closing it, and there was a hissing sound as the cramped little capsule pressurized. There was a monitor in front of me, as well as a terminal crammed with all manners of switches and buttons, but I had no idea what I should do.

  I was a freaking cook, for God’s sake, not an astronaut.

  It didn’t help that the only light in here was a red one, giving a horror movie vibe to the place. Scared out of my mind, I reacted on pure instinct and started hitting all the buttons at random. Something started to beep on the terminal, but the capsule didn’t move a single inch. I was going nowhere fast. Only then did I notice the red lever with the words LAUNCH engraved on it in both Jorkan and one of the human languages. I don’t know which one, due to the fact that they gave me a memory dump of all human languages and dialects in preparation for meeting my match.

  Without thinking twice about it, I pulled on it.

  Next thing I know, the capsule was being hurled out into the vastness of space.

  Click here to get it now!

  Rogue Mate

  Science fiction romance is the destination of the Rogue Star…. Hop on board!

  Our rescuers are a group of pirates. Or smugglers. They're not exactly answering questions, either.

  More importantly, they're giant, golden skinned aliens...

  And their rogue of a captain seems very interested in the little human commander.

  Me.

  Rogue Mate is the first in the Rogue Star science fiction alien romance series. Click now to start the adventure!

  Copyright © 2020 by Ava York

  All rights reserved. These books or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the Author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

 

 

 


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