Tamed by the Alien Pirate: Mates of the Kilgari

by Kyle, Celia

  What would Varia do in this situation? Probably pick up that beer bottle and bust it over one of their ridged heads. But I can’t bring myself to do anything beyond walking backward.

  “Help. Somebody help…”

  The Vakutans laugh, and add their own cries to the chorus.

  “Oh, help, someone help.” Scar face is mimicking my voice by affecting a higher pitch. “Please, I’m going to get raped by two Vakutan studs.”

  “This is K’Patel, princess.” Cyber hand licks his lips and grins. “Don’t nobody care what happens to anyone else. Survival of the fittest.”

  I turn around and break into a run, even as the relative travel speeds of Vakutans and humans come to my mind. Far from the fastest sapients, they can still achieve speeds of forty kilometers per hour. Top tier human athletes can’t hope to compete, and I’m no athlete.

  I’m surprised I get the whole ten feet down the alley that I do before one of them grabs my hair and drags me back. In full hysterical mode, I start kicking and screaming, breaking a nail on my finger attempting to scratch the cybernetic limb. Lifting me bodily off the pavement, cyber hand drives me back against the oil-stained brick wall and wraps his fingers around my throat, cutting off both speech and air.

  “That’s enough of that, now.” He leers in my face as I struggle to breathe. “You should start being nice to us, and we’ll be nice to you. We’ll be sure to sell you at a premium price in the slave markets so you get a good master.”

  “Wait, now, she might not be worth anything. Those big fat cow titties might be fake.” Scar face reaches up his hand and tears my blouse right down the middle. I would scream but I can barely choke in enough air to keep from passing out.

  “What the hell is this thing?” He prods at the tech vest under my clothing. “How do you even take it off?”

  “It’s one of those fancy self-adjusting PPG vests. Crap doesn’t even stop a low caliber bullet.”

  “Well, that’s okay, we’ll take her somewhere private and figure it out.” He glances at cyber hand. “Check her for any other weapons.”

  “Right, with pleasure.” I squeeze my eyes shut as his hands run all over my body, indeed checking me for weapons but lingering his touch in all the wrong areas. I start kicking again, and Scar face tightens his grip.

  “Settle down. If you think this is bad wait until you see the wrestler’s arm he calls his cock. You’ll be split in half upon it.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Zander stand up and take aim with his force pistol. An orange beam streaks down the alley and strikes Cyber hand in the back. He is enveloped in an aura the same color as the beam, and then it fades.

  Scar face lets go of me to check on his friend, apparently unaware of the glowing field’s source.

  “Hey, are you all right? What was that?”

  Cyber hand opens his mouth to speak, but his tongue just… melts. Then his body becomes translucent, and he collapses into a grotesque red pile of goo. Clothing and his cyber hand are all that remains.

  The pistol worked, just as Zander intended it to. I don’t know whether to be grateful or horrified, possibly both. Not that this weapon makes you any deader than a conventional one, but the idea of just literally coming apart at the seams is nothing short of monstrous.

  Not that I’m complaining, not even when Scar face is also enveloped in an orange aura. He looks at his hands as they become translucent, and then goes to scream but only foamy red bubbles come out of his mouth. Then he, too, becomes a puddle on the pavement.

  My hand clutches at my throat as I try to step around the piles without getting any liquefied Vakutan on my shoes. Zander comes up to my side, sheathing his insanely lethal weapon in its holster.

  “Are you all right?” His hands are gentle, soothing as he checks me for injuries. I’m still too choked up to speak—figuratively and literally—so I nod. Softly, he pushes my chin up so he can see my throat. “Scurrilous cretins. They got what they deserved.”

  Now that he knows I’m all right, his attention switches to his gun, which he draws and examines with glee.

  “It worked perfectly, just as I’d intended. So far I can only affect organic matter, but imagine the implications for starship-based weaponry.”

  “Or for the…” I cough several times before continuing. “—the mining industry. They could save a lot of labor by vaporizing hundreds of feet of stone in one go.”

  Zander starts, and stares at me with wide eyes. I think perhaps he forgot I was here for a moment.

  “I’m sorry. I was blathering on again.”

  “As is your wont.” I stare down at the pools of sludge and wrinkle my nose in disgust. “A pity your fancy weapon doesn’t have a stun setting, or maybe we could have pumped these two for information.”

  “That is most unfortunate. But maybe there’s a clue left on their bodies… that is, on their clothing.”

  I grimace as he begins the revolting task of going through their fallen garments, which are already soaked through with the primordial sludge. If I were in a better frame of mind, I would probably collect some for a sample. It might be most intriguing to see what happens to matter when the bonds between atoms are severed.

  Zander finds a credstick on the Vakutan with the cybernetic hand and takes it along with the limb itself. He also reaches for the fallen Vakutan’s pistol, but I stop him.

  “Wait, Zander. Those guns could have been used to commit crimes here in K’Patel. You don’t want your fingerprints or DNA traces on them.”

  He cocks an eyebrow but then nods his horned head.

  “Good thinking, Thrase.”

  “Naturally.” I groan inwardly. I’m supposed to be making myself seem less arrogant and that’s my reply?

  But he just returns to his task as if my reply was not unexpected. Other than some hard currency on Scar face’s… ah, body, he finds a tiny square package with its own holographic display. I can’t make out the purple, Cyrillic script.

  “What does it say?”

  “It’s a M’Kal tongue… I think it translates to the luxurious club for businessmen.”

  “Wait…” I chuckle when I realize that is no business holocard he’s holding. “Is that a prophylactic?”

  “A condom? Yes, it is. I suppose that’s one way to get word of your business out. What should we do?”

  “Hmm.” I purse my lips and consider our options. “Since we’ve been coming up short on our clandestine inquiries, this club might be our only solid lead.”

  “Then I guess we’re going to the luxurious club.” Zander grins and holds up the purloined, or should I say scavenged, cred stick. “Drinks are on him.”

  I can’t quite manage a laugh considering my throat still hurts, but I do smile.

  Chapter Seven

  Zander

  We leave the alley with its two very dead Vakutan occupants behind us and head out into one of the main thoroughfares of K’Patel. A few people glance our direction but seem bored and uninterested, considering that I’m hardly the only Kilgari about. Thrase is the only human, which might be why she hangs back at the mouth of the alley, arms folded over herself protectively.

  “Thrase?” I turn back to her, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Make haste, please. It would not do to be in the vicinity when those corpses are inevitably discovered.”

  Her eyes narrow, and I can feel the disdain coming off of her in waves.

  “Do you think I’m not aware of that fact?”

  “Ah… I didn’t mean to impugn your obvious intelligence. I just can’t figure out why you haven’t come out yet.”

  “Maybe it’s because I’m the one who’s half naked.”

  Her shirt was ripped. Of course, how stupid of me. Thrase’s statement is rather hyperbolic—between the vest and her trousers she’s hardly naked to any degree—but I forget that human females insist on covering their torsos thoroughly.

  “I’m sorry.” I doff my outer brocade coat and drape it over her shoulders. She
shoots me a smile, gratitude beaming out of her large brown eyes. I recall the moment where we almost kissed in the armory and my heart beat quickens.

  “Thank you.” My coat is long on her, so that it’s practically a tunic. Using her comm, she brings up a map of the city and sets a vector for the luxurious club’s address. “Huh. Strange hours for a night club. They open at noon.”

  “It is probably a disreputable place, Thrase. Best stay near me at all times.”

  She arches an eyebrow as if considering my motives but then slowly nods.

  “All right. Just try not to get shot in the back.”

  A grin spreads over my face.

  “I’ll make a point of it.”

  “You shot both of those Vakutan in the back.”

  “Their backs were to me.”

  “I wasn’t finding fault. I was just stating the obvious.”

  A deep-throated chuckle escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking that I’ve never been into the concept of ‘honorable’ combat. If I’m going to shoot someone, I prefer them to be facing away from me, unarmored, and possibly unconscious.”

  She joins in my laughter and moves a few inches closer as we continue down the avenue, dodging other pedestrians and the large number of homeless sapients lying or sitting on the sidewalk.

  “That’s a very pragmatic attitude. I approve.”

  “I’m glad that you do…” I pat the weapon at my side, and start going off again about its specs, performance, and ways I can improve its function.

  I realize she’s somewhat annoyed by the way that I keep going on about it, but I can’t help myself. Besides, she’s one of the few people on the ship capable of understanding the more technical terms.

  Following the holomap projected by her comm, we turn the corner and find ourselves on a street that is somewhat less… inviting than the one we were just on. What’s the euphemism popular with Terrans? Rough neighborhood? That seems most appropriate under the circumstances. No merchants have stalls here, and most of the shops and buildings have boards over their windows. The few denizens glare at us with open hatred, and if not for the pistols we wear at our hips, I suspect they would do more than glare.

  At the end of the road, we spot the club, with the same purple lettering glowing softly. An Alzhon stumbles out the front door with a little assistance from the Odex bouncer, who wears an ill-fitting evening coat with the sleeves ripped out. The Alzhon vomits into a trash can and then stumbles down the street complaining that he’s not even drunk.

  As we near the club, the thudding bass echoes in our ears, so loud I can feel the percussion in my belly. I begin to suspect this isn’t a respectable establishment at all. My theory is confirmed when the door swings wide to allow an old Kilgari’s ingress and I spot a half-naked dancer gyrating on a small stage.

  “Ah… this is… ah…”

  “A strip club?” Thrase chuckles. “I’m from Mars, Zander. We have strip clubs all across Olympus Mons that would make you blush so hard you wouldn’t know what to do. So I’m hardly a Solaris nun who’s been sheltered her whole life.”

  She begins walking for the entrance, and I grab her arm and pull her back.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, we can’t ask questions outside. We need to go in.”

  “But—but it’s a, how did you say, strip club.”

  “Yes. Your point?”

  I realize I don’t really have one, and I quickly fall in step behind her. But when we reach the front door, the massive Odex holds his hairy hand out and bellows.

  “No women. Only men.”

  Thrase cocks an eyebrow at him.

  “Why such a discriminatory policy? Surely the owner of this establishment is aware of changing gender mores in society?”

  “Uh…” The Odex sticks a finger in his ear, wriggles it around, and pulls it back out covered in orange ear wax. “Speak galactic standard, please.”

  Then he thrusts the finger in his mouth and sucks it dry, turning my stomach. Thrase is too angry to be grossed out, however.

  “Why aren’t women allowed in?” she speaks very slowly and deliberately, as if to a child.

  “Simple. This is a respectable joint, not some freaky sex club like that Babel on Felora IV. Now scram.”

  Thrase and I walk off a short distance to confer.

  “Looks like I’m going in alone, but I won’t leave you to your own devices in this neighborhood.”

  “Pshaw. These louts are intimidated by our weaponry. You go on inside, and I’ll find another way in.”

  “But—but…”

  “The mission is vital, Zander. Don’t you want to find Lokyer and save him?”

  She has me there. With great reluctance, I approach the entrance, but then I turn and give her my weak force pistol.

  “Here. Just in case.”

  Thrase accepts the pistol and thrusts it into the pocket of my coat. Then she suddenly gets up on her tip toes and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Be careful in there.”

  She turns around and strides away down the block before I can respond. My hand goes up to my cheek and touches it softly. If only she had kissed me on the lips, so I could confirm our bond.

  There’s nothing left to do but head inside the club. I pay the exorbitant twenty credit cover charge and am informed I must order two drinks at a minimum. Good thing my melted Vakutan friend is paying because I’d hate to justify this expense to Solair.

  Inside, a swirling of smoke and flashing lights creates a party atmosphere, though the only ones dancing are the women. The Grolgath female spinning around a metal pole in only her birthday suit is quite attractive, but I find that it only makes me think of Thrase.

  The club is crowded, so I order a watered down Geigerbrau and mingle. Most of the patrons don’t feel chatty, their eyes intent on the naked dancers, but I find one elderly Vakutan with drooping eyelids who just won’t shut up.

  I have to indulge his penchant for speaking about the good old days in order to pump him for information. This means I learn a great deal more about his life than I really want to.

  “…so that’s when I quit working for Lanz and started breaking knees for his brother Ganz instead. The pay wasn’t quite as good, but Ganz doesn’t get drunk and shoot his own people on accident. Or at least he didn’t when I worked for him. Bastard fired me a few years back, said I was getting slow. Did pay me decent severance though, which is rare in my line of work.”

  “That’s rough, Cyd. Real rough.” I take another drink of my half empty beer. “So, you seem like a man who knows what’s what in K’Patel.”

  “Oh, I don’t know all the much, not really.”

  I place one of the hard currency coins on the table between us and slide it toward him.

  “Anything at all you could share would not go… unappreciated.”

  I jingle the other coins in my pocket for emphasis. Cyd makes the coin disappear and furrows his ridged brow.

  “Well, the weirdest shit going on right now is the fact that these damn humans seem to come in like nothing else when you least expect them. I remember a time my granddaddy used to tell me back when they were only on their home world. Now they’re spread out all over the place. Them and their Interstellar Human Condemnation or whatever the hell they call it. You know that the IHC has their shock troopers—what they call them? Seamen?”

  “Marines.”

  “Right, Marines. Well, they’ve got them on M’Kal now. They came in, a bunch of them, and they’re guarding the old Starcorp building. And you know that don’t make a shit lick of sense.”

  “Remember, Cyd, I’m not from around here. What’s so special about the Starcorp building?”

  His eyes go wide.

  “You didn’t hear? It was all over the media and the holonet. See, the Star Corporation manufactured inertial dampening matrixes for the League, the Helios Combine, pretty much any client they coul
d get, for a fraction of the cost of the nearest competitor. They worked well, too, only the reason they were so all fired cheap was they left out the radiation insulation circuits.”

  I set my beer down and gape.

  “But that would inundate the crew and cargo with small levels of radiation. Over time it would prove fatal.”

  “Exactly. Exactly.” Cyd points at me like I’m just the smartest boy in class. “Star Corporation lost its shirt in the resulting lawsuits and had to close down. The building has sat empty for a long time, but now there’s armed guards outside. Be mighty interesting to find out what goes on in there…”

  I slap a few more coins on the table between us.

  “Thanks, Cyd. If I find anything out, I’ll be sure to pass it along to you.”

  “Be careful. These IHC goons aren’t like the normal ones. They’ll shoot at you just for hanging out in front.”

  I can tell he’s speaking from personal experience. Finishing the beer, I prepare to rise from my seat and go find Thrase.

  Then the lights dim and a spotlight glows on the glittery curtain separating the stage from the back of the club.

  “Gentlemen, put your manipulatory limbs together for our hottest new edition… THRASE.”

  No. She didn’t…

  Thrase pushes awkwardly through the curtain, dressed in a long elegant seeming evening gown and elbow length gloves. Someone has smeared garish cosmetics over her face, and the result makes her seem very…available.

  Even as I cringe on the inside at how she managed to gain access to the building, my pants grow tight as she starts shaking her hips with more aplomb than I was expecting.

  Thrase, what are you doing?

  Chapter Eight

  Thrase

  What the hell am I doing?

  My mind flashes back to how I got into this predicament, and it’s not one of my finer moments.

  I had gone around the block, watching carefully for any more thugs, and searched for a rear entrance to the club, perhaps one maintenance or employees used for their ingress. What I discovered was that the club was not nearly so glamorous and glitzy in the back. Plain unadorned masonry walls frame a featureless metal door. There was no way to open it from this side without a physical key, and I was wondering how I was going to get inside when it suddenly popped open.