Charmed by the Alien Pirate

by Kyle, Celia

  “Everyone’s panicking,” I say, returning his smile while warm blood rushes to my cheeks. I feel like a schoolgirl, getting all embarrassed just because my crush praised me. “Really, that’s the only reason they didn’t see it. It’s a risky maneuver, though. Do you think you can pull it off?”

  “Please.”

  “All right, message received.” Nodding to myself, I dig my fingernails into my palms as I think of what I have to do. “I’m gonna grab Montier and head into the engine room. What we’re about to do is going to push the engine to its limits, and I want to be there to ensure the damn thing doesn’t implode.” Before I can turn to search out Montier, I see Lokyer look up.

  “What the fuck are you two talking about?” Lokyer says, looking at us from his navigation console. His golden face is a pure mask of confusion. “Are you talking in code or what?”

  “No time to explain,” Swipt says, leaving Lokyer even more baffled than before. Jumping out from his seat, he heads toward the center of the bridge until he has Solair’s undivided attention. I remain standing where I was, suddenly realizing we never really debated anything. And yet, as wild as it may sound, I know he immediately understood my plan. I have no doubt Swipt is my mate. We barely need to speak in order to communicate.

  “What is it?” Solair finally asks, his voice brimming with impatience. Never peeling his eyes away from the map, a blinking red dot detailing the Prestige’s approach, Solair waves his hand at Swipt in an annoyed gesture. “I hope it’s good. We only have two minutes left.”

  “Yeah, this is good,” Swipt replies. “I think we have a workable solution.”

  I don’t stick around to hear his explanation. I just grab Montier’s hand, drag him out of the bridge, and start running down the corridors. The clock is running out, and someone needs to be in the engine room to ensure Swipt’s crazy maneuvers won’t cause a fuel leak or something even more dangerous.

  If we’re gonna do this, it has to be now.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Swipt

  As Ilya rushes down to engineering to help facilitate our crazy plan, my fingers flash over the piloting control console. Any second now the Prestige will enter weapons range, and we’re going to be in for a rough ride. There’s no time for second chances, much less second guesses.

  “The Prestige will be in weapons range in less than thirty seconds.” Solair’s voice has a note of desperation in it. “Whatever you’re planning, Swipt, it had better happen soon.”

  “I’m working as fast as I can, Cap’n. But in order for this trick to work, they’re going to have to follow us closely.”

  Solair’s face contorts into a grimace.

  “How closely?”

  “A lot more closely than anyone is going to be comfortable with, even me.”

  “Prestige is powering up their weapons array.” Grantian’s lips are a thin, tight line as he checks readouts on his console. “They’re also preparing to launch torpedoes.”

  “Shunt power from all nonessential systems to our aft shield array.” Solair punches keys on his own console. “I’ll increase inertial dampening temporarily. It’s still going to be a bumpy ride.”

  A warning klaxon sounds as the monitor display lights up with red flashes.

  “Captain, they’ve opened fire…”

  We all lurch in unison as the first strafe of gamma rays impacts our shields. Lights dim for a moment but then brighten back to their normal configuration.

  “Shields are holding, Solair.” Grantian looks grimly at his console. “But they’re down by fifteen percent.”

  “That was just one salvo.” Lokyer’s voice is edged with panic. “If they let loose with a full barrage…”

  “Swipt, I’d like to avoid taking any more hits until you enact this crazy scheme of yours and Ilya’s.”

  “On it, Cap’n. Let’s see how they like evasion pattern Swipt Away. Everyone hang on to your butts.”

  I enact the program and then cling to my console for dear life. As one, the upper half of the starboard thruster array fires up at full power while the port array’s lower section activates. In addition, the nose maneuvering jets kick into high gear.

  The end result of this complicated firing sequence is that the Queen goes into a wild spiral, twisting and pivoting until we’re turned about facing directly at the Prestige. At this range, their own gamma ray emitters will fry their shields, but our ion cannons are perfectly functional.

  “Fire all ion cannons. Empty the chambers.”

  Solair’s declaration is not literal. The energy-based weapons have no chambers of projectiles to empty in the first place. He means to fire at maximum rate and yield. Zander growls low in his throat as he fires the battery, and our cannons rip across the fore deck of the Prestige.

  “Direct hit, Cap’n.” Zander’s smile fades a moment later. “The enemy vessel has suffered no damage.”

  “Did we even scratch their fucking shields?”

  Zander’s grim expression is all the answer we need, but he speaks anyway.

  “Negative.”

  I take the Queen on a wild, twisting ride about the system, staying just barely one step ahead of the Prestige. It’s a constant struggle to avoid a weapons lock, and the red lights on my heads-up display only stay off for a moment before they flash back to life.

  I can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later my luck will run out, or their pilot will catch on to my erratic flight plan and fire an anticipatory barrage.

  Fortunately, I don’t have to. Every maneuver, every pulse of the thrusters, has taken me that much closer to the yellow giant star of this system. Even now it looms ominously, taking up most of our viewscreen with its mottled globular luminescence. I notice that despite environmental controls not having power shunted from them to the shields, everyone is coated in a gleaming sheen of sweat.

  And it’s only going to get hotter.

  As I vector toward the bright, hot sun, I hear Grantian curse from behind me.

  “The Prestige has launched a full spread of torpedoes.”

  “Damn it.” Solair slams his fist on his console. “Swipt, can you avoid them?”

  “Firing countermeasures now, Cap’n.” As the flares shoot out of the Queen’s aft launcher, I swiftly engage an afterburn, which might generate enough heat to set off the torpedoes.

  Our flares take out several of the torpedoes, and the afterburn flashes the rest into explosive fury, but one manages to make it all the way through my bag of tricks and impacts against the hull. The Queen rumbles, and we’re thrown hard into our crash webbing.

  “Shields at twenty-five percent but holding.”

  “We’ve lost artificial gravity on decks two and three.” Solair starts punching keys on his console. “I’m engaging the backups now.”

  “No, belay that.”

  Solair glances sharply at me.

  “Excuse me, Swipt?”

  “I need every ounce of power for this move, Cap’n. Please.”

  Solair grimaces, but he ceases his efforts to enact the backup gravity drive. Over the comms, an angry human voice demands our surrender.

  “Attention Kilgari vessel. This is Captain Zayne. You’ve evaded us once but we won’t be so generous again. We have you dead to rights. Surrender and prepare to be boarded, or we will annihilate you.”

  “Well, how can we turn down a delightful invitation like that?” No one laughs at my jest, but then again, I don’t expect them to under the circumstances.

  Apparently, the captain of the Prestige has decided we didn’t respond quickly enough because he fires another salvo. I manage to avoid the worst of it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t cringe when the ship lurches under the impact of what got through.

  “Shields at fifteen percent.” Grantian glares at me over his console. “We cannot take another blow.”

  “I know. I know. Just a few more seconds.”

  “Swipt, are you aware your vector is taking us right at that star?”

 
; “Yes, Cap’n. I’m afraid it’s necessary.”

  He narrows his gaze at me, and then a grin splits his features.

  “I think I know what you have in mind, Swipt. Grantian, reroute noncritical power to the heat shields.”

  “But that will leave us defenseless.”

  “You said we can’t take another shot anyway.”

  Grantian grumbles, but does as Solair orders.

  “Done, Solair.”

  I hit the direct comm to engineering and cry out into the mike.

  “Ilya, are you prepared?”

  “Just finished up. You’re good to go, baby.”

  I smile and start punching in new commands on the console.

  “Music to my ears. Lokyer, can you calculate a superluminal jump to these coordinates?”

  He stares at his monitor and then glances sharply at me.

  “But that only takes us less than a kilometer away.”

  “I know. Please hurry.”

  Lokyer glances over at Solair, who nods.

  “Do it, Lokyer.”

  “All right. Calc is made. You can jump when ready, Swipt.”

  I punch in a few more commands, and the Queen begins to list slightly to her starboard side. Ominous looking but harmless vapor issues from our nacelles.

  “You’re trying to make them think that we’re dead in space.”

  “Gold star for you, Cap’n.”

  Sure enough, the Prestige stops firing and comes in close, looming behind us. Blinking sweat out of my eyes, I wait until they’re just within boarding range before I execute the jump.

  There’s a brief flash of light, and then we’re suddenly half a mile from our previous position. The superluminal jump kicks up a wave from the sun’s corona, a two-mile-long and three-mile-wide nimbus of pure destructive energy that envelops the Prestige.

  A cheer rises out of the bridge crew as the Prestige is covered in minor explosions. Now it’s her turn to list, but for real and not a ruse.

  “Enemy vessel’s propulsion systems are off line as are weapons.” Grantian looks up at Solair with a fierce grin. “They are sitting ducks.”

  “Shall I target them with a full weapons spread, Cap’n?”

  “No.” Varia goes to Solair’s side. “We should board them. See what we can learn.”

  Solair glances over at Grantian, his eyebrows arched in query.

  “Do you think that’s feasible, Grantian?”

  “I’m afraid not.” He shakes his head in denial. “The Prestige doesn’t have long before she succumbs to the sun’s heat and gravity. Our shields aren’t going to fare much better if we remain within the star’s corona.”

  “Damn.” Solair sighs and looks up at his mate. “Sorry, dear. Looks like we’re going to have to yield to the better part of valor.”

  “We could still blow them out of the sky, Captain.”

  “Easy, Zander. I’d rather not kill a whole ship worth of IHC officials. It might be bad for our reputation.”

  “Then what should we do?”

  Solair shrugs.

  “It’s in the Precursor’s hands now. Lokyer, set a course for Cadrinda. Grantian, start picking crew for away teams once we get there.”

  “Captain.” I stand up from my seat and straighten my jacket. “I’d like to be on one of the away teams, please.”

  He only looks at me for a moment before he nods.

  “Very well.”

  I’m not going to sit this one out, not when we’re so close to finding out why the IHC is after the Frontier women in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ilya

  Swipt puts the Ancestral Queen down at one of the free ports circling the sprawling, dynamic colony of Cadrinda.

  As a child of Glimner—an entire planet whose settlements have been constructed with the utmost attention to urban planning and modern mass transit—the sight of this mishmash of buildings, technologies, and wealth variances is downright disturbing.

  You can tell where the original colony was because of the monolithic, goliath prefab buildings looming near the city’s center. When the first colonists came here long ago, they had come in those ships, which were converted to factories, housing, and medical facilities.

  Over time, more settlers arrived, not all of them human, though Terrans make up the bulk of the population. So there’s an Alzhon neighborhood, a Vakutan ghetto, and even a Kilgari borough. The wealthy live in the better kept buildings near the north, ironically far away from the original colony, which has become a rough neighborhood. It gets poorer the further south you go.

  Since we’re strolling in from the south, my gaze is treated to the worst of it. Swipt pads next to me, his face twisted into a sympathetic frown as we behold disfigured and crippled beggars living in dome-shaped igloos made of dung and mud.

  Varia and Lokyer are a few paces behind. Varia the ex-soldier automatically took rear guard position while Lokyer seems apprehensive about the slums.

  “This is awful.”

  I squeeze Swipt’s hand, wishing I could offer more reassurance.

  “Unfortunately, out here on the frontier they treat it like a zero-sum game.”

  “Zero-sum game?” Lokyer jogs to catch up with us. “That doesn’t translate to galactic standard.”

  “It’s a human term,” Varia offers, also coming abreast of us. “It means that in order for someone to win the game, someone else has to lose.”

  Lokyer and Swipt exchange disgusted glances.

  “I don’t think I like zero-sum games.”

  “Good.” I smile sweetly up at Swipt. “If you did, it would be a problem.”

  We pass out of the slums into a low-income area where people can at least afford roofs over their heads. Not decent roofs, but roofs nonetheless. Most of the people here rely upon their own feet for transportation, but there’s an old model hoverpod or two tucked carefully into the tightly packed nooks between buildings.

  Despite their destitute state, the folk here are finding ways to enjoy life. Nearly every porch is graced with a musician playing ancient acoustic instruments. I’ve always loved the sound of a Spanish guitar, something I picked up from my father. We pause for a moment to listen to a particularly skilled Mariachi band, featuring an Alzhon on accordion, and a human guitarist who doesn’t look a day over one hundred creating the most beautiful sounds with his gnarled fingers.

  Swipt tosses some of his hard currency into a sombrero, and then we move on toward what I would call the middle-class section of the settlement. While the folks are still hardy, they have better dwellings that don’t leak in the rain, and most of them have some form of transport. I even see a puddle jumper, a cheap two-person superluminal star ship, partially hidden under a tarp.

  We have to pause at an intersection separating us from the northern, more affluent section of the settlement because of an Alzhon funeral procession. A priest walks out in front, carrying a scepter which perpetually expels red plumes of incense. His silver eyes speak of cybernetic enhancement, as do the circuitry panels on the backs of his hands.

  Next comes the grieving family, hidden by red shrouds over their heads and tethered by thick red cords around their waists to unmasked second and third cousins. They will remain tethered for the entirety of the funeral, which will last long into the night. Alzhons don’t have a formal belief in the afterlife. They have an enormously robust immune system and rarely die of natural causes. When one of them does pass on, it’s treated like a massive tragedy for these reasons.

  It’s darkly beautiful with the body being born aloft on a hover platform that also exudes the crimson incense.

  “Well, that was depressing.”

  We all chuckle at Lokyer’s attempt to lighten the mood, and the navigator grins and points across the avenue.

  “I do believe they’re selling something deep fried, horrifically nonnutritive, and probably decadently delicious over there. What say we sample the local cuisine?”

  Varia chuckles an
d gestures her consent.

  “It seems like it would be wrong not to.”

  Our quartet approaches a human with a sun-darkened complexion, his face wizened but merry. His slender body squats next to a large black urn on spindly legs. After adjusting the temperature on the bubbling urn of oil, he straightens up and smiles.

  “What can I get for you?”

  “Ah…” I can tell Swipt wasn’t prepared for this question. Good for him he’s got me, his loving fated mate. I step up between them and address the venerable man.

  “We’ll take four of the daily specials, please.”

  The man immediately goes into action, padding out a large ball of ivory hued dough in a stone cistern, and Swipt turns toward me.

  “You recognize this kind of cuisine?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest, but most places have a daily special. I just guessed.”

  He laughs, and we watch the man work. Our chef winds up spinning the dough around like he’s making a pizza before tossing the flattened disc into his vat of oil. It floats on the top, and he begins tossing in sliced onions and more exotic alien vegetables. The whole thing burbles into a morass, the dough growing crisp and incorporating each new ingredient in turn.

  Then he uses a large wooden spatula to extract the disc and hangs it on a hook to drip dry. He prepares three more, and I begin to realize my error. One of those things is enough for both Varia and me. I’ve ordered far too much food.

  No one seems to mind, however. After paying our tab, we seat ourselves in the shade near a water reclamation plant and watch the city bustle past while we eat.

  My first bite is wonderful, spicy and crisp with a surprisingly pleasing sweet note. I have some fun teasing Swipt, pretending like I’m going to hand feed him a tidbit before popping it into my own mouth.

  Lokyer looks on wistfully while Varia can’t keep a matronly smile off her face. I guess we are still all cutesy with each other. In any other relationship I’ve had, that feeling faded fast, but I have a gut instinct it will be different with Swipt. I get the feeling it might last forever.