Hitched to the Alien General

by Mina Carter

  “High-tech sc—” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too many of your species’ fantasies… those ‘films.’ They’re total rubbish.”

  “Hey! I like sci-fi films!” she huffed and folded the jacket around her more firmly. “So you can’t tell anything about it? You could tell it wasn’t Terran.”

  “That’s because you people must just haul the metal out of the ground and pound it into shape with the mud still attached,” he teased. “Scanners can give me a list of the likely hull composition. The problem is, most species in the galaxy use metals with similar compositions.”

  “Well… bugger.” She sat back in the seat, a disappointed look on her face.

  He could see the cogs working in the back of her mind and hid a smile. That was one of the things he liked so much about her. For all her insistence she was nothing more than a “grunt,” which was apparently a name for the kind of warrior she was, she was highly intelligent and tenacious. Given a problem, she kept worrying at it, not giving up.

  Even on him. He’d been aware of her interest in him since the first time they’d met. At first he’d put it down to simple curiosity. That she was as curious about the Lathar as they were about humanity. Before too long, though, it had become apparent that she wasn’t just interested in the Lathar as a species, but him in particular.

  And he’d been going to claim her. Before the battle that had nearly killed him.

  The master healer had saved Xaan’s life, but the road to recovery had been long and hard, and at some points it felt like he’d never recover full strength and movement in his damaged arm and shoulder. So he’d pushed her away, trying to make her lose interest in him. What could he have offered her but a lifetime with a bitter and crippled old warrior?

  “Wait,” she said suddenly. “You said you couldn’t tell anything from the metals. Right?”

  “I did.” He wasn’t sure where she was going with her question. Hadn’t he just said that?

  “Okay. But your sensors can tell the difference between a human and a Lathar, even though we’re genetically related?”

  “Of course. Easily.” He grunted as he swung the ship between two large chunks of the debris, slipping through the rapidly narrowing gap. They were no longer recognizable as parts of a ship, the metal melted and twisted. What could render a ship into little more than scattered debris of molten metal lumps?

  “Search for organic matter then.” She practically bounced in her seat as she spoke, and he lost concentration for a moment to look at her. “What? It’ll tell you who the ship belonged to. Won’t it? I mean… a ship this size is not going to be automated.”

  “You…” he turned his attention back to the controls just in time to stop them ramming nose-first into another molten boulder, “are a draanthing genius. There should be some kind of organic matter in here somewhere.”

  The last boulder turned out to be the final large one. Seeing nothing else that would bother the shields, he put the ship back on autopilot and reconfigured the scanners to analyze any organic matter in the debris.

  The results came back faster than he’d thought. He blinked in surprise at the readings.

  “What?” she asked, seeing his expression. “What is it?”

  He turned to her, a frown creasing his brow.

  “It’s… well, it was… a Latharian ship.”

  * * *

  What could do this to a Latharian ship?

  Kenna fell silent as they flew through the immense debris field. The first part had been the worst of it, with huge chunks of what looked like metallic rock big enough to crush the little ship between them, but the sheer size of the rest took her breath away.

  Hours later they were still in the middle of it. The debris was smaller here, but even she could see it extended as far as she could see. What could cause such devastation that it scattered the remains of a ship over such a large area? Plus, Latharian ships were heavily armed and armored…

  “There were no bodies,” she realized suddenly.

  And there hadn’t been. Boulders the size of city blocks, but no bodies. Not one. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but if a whole ship had been taken apart, there should be bodies. Surely?

  “The level of destruction… The condition of the remains… The only thing that could have come anywhere near this is a queshikall. But—” Xaan shook his head. “Even a queshikall couldn’t cause this level of devastation.”

  She wriggled to get more comfortable. She hadn’t bothered to put pants on, so now her ass cheek was stuck to the leather. Carefully she eased to the side to free herself without making an unfortunate noise. Fart noises in front of a guy you were trying to impress? So not good.

  “What’s a queshikall?” she asked, pronouncing the unfamiliar word carefully.

  “A bomb. One of the most powerful ones we use. Your people would call it a planet killer. But this is too expansive… no queshikall has a yield this big. We’re entering the System Four Seven Alpha… Terran designation Delta Orellius.”

  She blinked as she looked through the front screen. When Daaynal had told them about the mission, she’d imagined the source of the problem to be something. Something physical or tangible. Perhaps a pirate outpost with high-yield generators running on illegal minerals. Or some mad scientist playing with energy-based technology he shouldn’t have been.

  But…

  “There’s nothing here. Nothing other than this anyway,” she motioned at the debris around them.

  Xaan was silent, his attention on the console in front of them. Figures and symbols she had no chance of understanding sped by on the screens. She looked at the big Latharian out of the corner of her eye. He was back to being the stone cold general, totally focused on the mission.

  But she’d seen past the armor. He’d held her in his arms and talked about his late wife. It seemed like an odd conversation to have with a guy she was interested in, but it had actually reassured her he wasn’t holding a torch for his late wife… mate.

  An ex she could have dealt with, a ghost not so much. And his former mate had never called mating marks from his skin. So they couldn’t have been soul mates.

  “This here and here…” He stopped the cascade of information and pointed out two areas. “These don’t make sense. These are the two levels we spotted on long-range scans. In this area they should be so low as to not even register, but here they’re off the charts. It has to have something to do with the debris.”

  “Of a destroyed ship that shouldn’t even be in this area,” she mused. “Could it have just, I dunno, gotten lost?”

  He snorted, amusement on his face. “Out here? Not likely. This area of space is considered vilarion… hmmm, how would you say it? A space of uselessness…like land that is just dirt and ugly vegetation? Where unwanted things are put?”

  “Wasteland?” She laughed. “You’re telling me Terran space is considered wasteland?”

  He nodded, a quirk on his lips. “Yes. That’s why we didn’t find you before. No one bothered to look here, and when it comes to space travel? You’re infants. You’ve managed to get to the end of your garden and found some rocks to be excited about.”

  If she’d had a drink, she would have spat it out all over the screens in front of them. “Toddlers? Really?”

  He nodded, a wicked little twinkle in his eyes, and opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off as the console beeped and a new voice, distorted a little by static, filled the cabin.

  “…Please… if you can hear this… we’ve been attacked. Alien ships… need assistance.”

  The voice was female, frantic and speaking in English. Her gaze collided with Xaan’s.

  “There are colonies out here. What if whatever did this…” She waved at the debris field. “Attacked them as well? We have to go and look. Check they’re okay.”

  He nodded, his expression grim as his hands flew over the console. “The signal is coming from a smaller system not far from here. It won’t
take us long.” He smiled at her wryly. “Another ‘hold that thought’ I’m afraid.”

  “No problem.” She’d assumed that and people in trouble definitely took precedence. The deepened lines at the corners of his lips and the expression in his eyes caught her attention. “Something’s bothering you about this. Isn’t it? Talk to me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, but this doesn’t add up. That was a Lathar ship in an area it shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t an imperial one, so that just leaves Purists or…”

  Her breath caught at the word. The Purist faction within Latharian society was fanatical and violent. Since the discovery of humanity, they’d done everything they could to attack or kill the human women they could get to. They’d attacked her friend Cat’s wedding, tried to kill her other friend Jess while she was pregnant and take the child for sacrifice… They were not nice people. The idea of them being anywhere near human space sent shivers down her spine.

  She consoled herself with the thought that, had it been a purist ship, it was destroyed. No survivors.

  “Or?” she asked, realizing he’d been about to offer a second option.

  “Or pirates.”

  She blinked and ran the word through her head again to be sure he’d said what she’d thought.

  “Pirates?” She laughed. This got better and better. “Seriously? Like space pirates?”

  “Yes… why is that funny?” Xaan didn’t seem to see the funny side so she gave up. Explaining the idea of a swashbuckling space pirate was beyond her right now. “The C’Vaal are highly dangerous and capable warriors. Their leader was an imperial prince, but they had a difference of opinion with Daaynal’s father, so they were given territory in the Denair expanse. If they’ve decided to increase their territory, humanity could be in real trouble.”

  He shook his head. “I need to get a message through this interference to the fleet. Warn them of a possible C’Vaal presence. Go get dressed. We’ll be at the source of that distress call before long.”

  She slid out of the copilot’s seat, only for him to stop her with a big hand on her thigh. It slid up to her hip, the touch possessive, and left tingles chasing over her skin. Her breathing caught as she looked into his eyes, the blue rendered stormy and dark.

  “But make no mistake, kelarris, I intend to collect on those held thoughts soon.”

  5

  Even after months living among them, Latharian technology could still surprise Kenna occasionally.

  “It looks exactly like a Terran trader ship,” she exclaimed in surprise, turning to Xaan. They’d reached the surface without incident, landing a short distance away from the only settlement on the planet, and were now looking back at the ship from a small rise nearby. The ship had somehow managed to conceal it’s non-Terran origin so well that even she would have been fooled.

  Xaan looked different as well, his eyes altered somehow to look human. Dressed in Terran clothing he looked like the archetype of a rough-neck trader, one of the few insane enough to eek out a living in the outer systems. Away from the control of any bureaucratical oversight, they lived on the fringes of society “exploring” the edges of known space and selling whatever they found. Occasionally it was something useful that the scientific community went gaga over. Sometimes it blew their ships up. Such was the nature of meddling with shit you didn’t understand.

  “How did you do that?” she asked, indicating both his eyes and the ship.

  “Magic.”

  He grinned, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. They looked odd with round pupils like hers, she realized. She’d gotten used to him with vertical pupils.

  “Magic, my ass,” she growled. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you access to all those old films. You’ll be calling yourself Merlin next.”

  He looked at her oddly. “I do have M’rlin blood on my mother’s side. A long way back.”

  “Oh, you are kidding me. Merlin was real?”

  She’d stopped walking, looking at him in utter surprise. “He’s just a myth. A legend. They never found any evidence he and his magic were real.”

  He shrugged as she hurried to catch up with him, his long legs eating up the distance toward the settlement they’d scanned from space.

  “Maybe not, but if you with your technology could go back in time, you’d appear to be a god to your ancestors. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Huh. Yeah, I guess so. Or sorcerers at the very least.”

  Silence fell between them as they walked, the heather colored grasses brushing her ankles. Taking a deep breath, she savored the sweet-smelling air. It wasn’t as pleasant and fragrant as Lathar Prime, but it was still a welcome relief after weeks traveling aboard a star-ship. Recycled air was perfectly safe, but it was flat and dead. Her lungs could tell the difference.

  She was dressed very much the same as Xaan was, like a trader, which was no surprise as their cover was a married couple. She hadn’t argued when he’d suggested it, liking the idea of the fantasy… the idea of being his wife. So she snuck her hand into his as they walked, smiling at his surprised little look and then melting inside when he lifted her hand to place a soft kiss on the back of her knuckles.

  They reached another, higher rise and the settlement came into view beneath them. She paused for a moment and took in the view. It was idyllic with cloud-topped mountains to the north, rolling hills surrounding it, and what looked like a warm sea to the south.

  “I grew up on a colony. Not like this one,” she commented. “This is way nicer than where I came from. I’m from the Epsilon quadrant. Now that is a wasteland. It’s the ass-end of beyond. I have no idea why they put a colony there. Nothing but fucking dirt and rocks. And Anarin Root—it’s the colony’s main export.”

  They started down the incline, watching their footing. Every so often Xaan’s grip tightened on her hand to help her down a steeper bit. She didn’t need the help since she was accustomed to route marches and combat over rough terrain, but it was nice to let him look after her.

  “Anarin Root? Never heard of it.”

  She shrugged. “You won’t, not unless you’re a foodie. They use it in fancy-shmancy restaurants. It’s a bastard to harvest though. It’s got thick bark and the root trails are barbed. We fry it off and dip it in sugar. Tastes awesome that way.”

  Shouts from up ahead warned them that they’d been seen, and within a few minutes a group headed toward them from the front gates of the settlement. Like most colonies, it had been built within a fortified wall as protection for the colonists in a potentially hostile environment.

  “They’re armed.” Xaan’s voice was low, pitched so only she could hear. “Look a little twitchy.”

  His eyesight was better than hers, so it took another thirty seconds or so for her to make out the tight expressions on their faces and the fact fingers were way too close to triggers for her liking.

  “Keep it calm,” she advised, her body language relaxed.

  Xaan grunted. “I don’t like it. They’re too hostile.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She leaned closer to him for reassurance but didn’t reach out again to take his hand. Any movement on her part might be mistaken for something else by the group approaching. “It’s perfectly normal. They’re bound to be a little wary of visitors if they’ve been attacked.”

  He just grunted, but she could feel the tension and displeasure rolling off him in waves.

  The colony itself didn’t show any signs of damage, she noted, plastering a wide smile on her lips as the armed group approached them. There were six, four men and two women. Two walked directly toward them while the remaining four spread out, staying back. Sensible. Kenna nodded to herself in approval at the way they acted. Someone, somewhere, had taught these people the basics of field movement and it showed.

  “Hey there!” she called out, automatically slipping into the agreeable persona she’d been taught to adopt when dealing with locals. No sunglasses, big smile. It all made a difference in how people saw her a
nd reacted. “We got your distress call and thought we’d swing on by and make sure you guys were all right.”

  She’d also dropped back into the lazy drawl of a colonist born and bred. It had been something she’d tried to eradicate in her speech during her service, but it didn’t take but a moment for her to call it back up.

  “Hey yourselves.” The spokesperson was one of the women, a tall, sparse woman with grey-streaked blonde hair scraped back off her face into a thin plait over her shoulder. “We didn’t see you land or hear your reply.”

  Kenna shrugged, pretending not to notice that the woman’s finger hadn’t moved from her trigger guard.

  “Got some weirdness in the upper atmosphere, so we had to set down a ways back there.” She waved vaguely behind them. “Then it was the old leather personnel carriers to get us over here. We got medical supplies onboard if you guys need ‘em,” she added, her voice filled with concern.

  The woman relaxed a little, giving them a little smile as her gaze flicked over them. It was a smile that got broader as she looked at Xaan. Kenna bit back her instinctive growl at the woman’s obvious interest in the big, handsome pretend-trader.

  “I’m Helen,” she said abruptly and then nodded to the other five members of her team. “Chloe, James, Korric, Geoff and Trent.”

  “Pleasure to meet you all,” Xaan said, surprising her by answering first, in perfect English with a drawl to match hers. “I’m Steve Renner. My wife, Suzie.”

  Kenna plastered a smile over her face to hide her surprise. They hadn’t even discussed names, and obviously he couldn’t use his own. But… Steve? She didn’t think she’d ever met anyone less like a Steve than Xaan. And where had he picked up a colony-hick accent?

  Helen’s smile cooled a little at the revealed relationship between Kenna and Xaan and she whistled sharply.

  “Come on then, guys, let’s get our guests back inside the walls before night falls. You do not want to be out here after dark,” she told them as they started to walk back to the settlement. “There’s some real nasty local critters that’ll snack on your spine before you even realized they’ve ripped it from your body.”