“Ship,” I snap. “Can you show me a clearer image of our friend there?”
The ship doesn’t object to being referred to as such, though I have a feeling the AI on Paxia would have had a rude comment to make about that. “Certainly, General. I am detecting several devastating weapons. Are we under attack?”
She wants to enact certain protocols if we are, and I’m certain Tyr had it so that she couldn’t without somebody’s express permission. I narrow my eyes in thought as the ship comes into view on the large console before my eyes. And then is enlarged, and enlarged again.
“Those words … zoom in there,” I say, feeling sinking in the pit of my stomach. It’s not a Suhlik ship, which is what I was fearing. It is, in fact, much worse than that.
FMS Thunderclap
It’s a Firosan Military vessel. It’s my own people hunting me down. For the first time in my life, I understand the true feeling of fear that comes with being pursued by the most dangerous species in the galaxy.
My own.
“Yes, we are under attack,” I say hurriedly, sitting down at the controls and waggling my finger over them. I am a trained fighter and a good general, but I am not the greatest pilot that has ever lived. Some of these controls, new with the latest wave of fighter ships on Paxia, I have actually never seen before.
“Defensive Protocol Activating…”
I like the sound of that, though I have no idea what she means.
“Shields at full charge. Cannons at the ready. Emergency escape readying. Minimum security cells unlocked for evacuation.”
Wait, what?
I take my hands off the controls and look, annoyed, at the ceiling, as if that’s where the voice is hiding. “What is that last one?”
“In accordance with the law, all minimum security prisoners must be evacuated if the ship is under attack.”
I fight to remember what I labelled my prisoner. “The girl?” I ask.
“She is being talked through evacuation procedure.”
I panic. For more reasons than one. “Will she live?” I bark.
“I am not programmed to answer binary questions with certainty. The approximate average chance of survival in an escape pod in this sector is 18%. However, my sensors pick up no ships other than our attacker within range of a distress call. The chances of a ship moving within range before her oxygen levels run out, and responding to the call, I would currently put at closer to 9%.”
My heart hammers in my chest. “Tell her to get back in her cell. Abort emergency escape protocol. Do you hear me, ship? Abandon all evacuation protocol!”
“My programming requires me to implore you not to break intergalactic law, General,” she says, but obviously she doesn’t actually care. She is just a voice. This version of AI has nothing anyone would mistake for intelligent thoughts or feelings. Still, a lump forms in my throat at the thought of breaking even more laws.
“The law exists so that the Alliance isn’t held responsible for the deaths of any prisoners of war,” I suggest. “At 9% chance of survival, you are almost certainly sending a human to her death. An allied race. I am overriding the evacuation protocol, Spitfire. Send her away from the escape pod.”
There is a silence and a nearby whirring.
“Very well. Be advised, the prisoner will be loose on the ship. Please let me know if you would like to enact--”
“I have had enough of your protocols for now,” I growl, cutting over her. The AI fades to silence as if her feelings are hurt, and I program a new escape route and set it back to autopilot.
I turn and break into a jog back to the corridor where the human’s cell was. Just then, the ship judders and I nearly topple into the wall, but I slam my forearm against the side of the corridor and keep running without breaking my pace.
“Human!” I snap. I know deep down that if she sees a clear path to the escape pod, she will probably ignore the warnings and hop inside. Humans I know to be impulsive and headstrong little aliens.
I should find out her name.
I round the corner to the entrance to the escape pod and sure enough she is delicately trying to shoulder her way in through the half-open doors.
“Stop!” I roar, and break into a full sprint. My robe flaps open as I tear towards her, and to my relief the little human turns to me, lets her hands fall to her sides, and her eyes widen to the size of the oval glass pane behind her.
I look down, as if everything is happening in slow motion, and see that my robe has slipped open.
I am perhaps two feet taller than her, and twice as wide. Dark purple, tensed muscles pumping towards her at top speed … and my long purple cock swinging as I run.
I slow to a halt and adjust my robe.
“W-why won’t you just let me go?” she demands, her alabaster skin taking on a crimson hue that makes me twitch and grow with interest, just as I conceal myself again. She blinks a couple of times and forces her gaze back up to my frowning face. “I already told you: I don’t know anything. You have the wrong girl, and … and now Earth is mad at you and coming for me!” she bluffs, pointing towards the rapidly approaching ship, flashing with flying lasers.
I can’t help but smirk at her bravery. She is, of course, lying to my face. I feel strangely proud of the tiny creature.
Another attack rattles the Spitfire from the outside in and before she rights herself the ship tilts some way to the left. I manage to keep my balance with a well-timed stomp on the floor, but she is caught completely off guard and squeaks as she goes flying.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I take two huge running steps and whisk her up into my arms, spinning slightly as we rock back upright. I take an innocent deep breath in and inhale a lungful of her scent.
It is fruity, delicate, with an undertone of sweet spices. There is also the gentle earthy smell of hot sand and the salt of ocean water. My heartbeat increases exponentially and I push her from my arms and back onto her own two feet. She frowns at me.
“Why aren’t you letting me escape? The ship said it was intergalactic law,” she says, taking a half step back towards the pod.
“Because the chances of your survival if you launch yourself into the void are slim to none,” I growl. “That ship is not your rescue, I am afraid. It’s not your people.”
She swallows, weighing up my information and clearly deciding whether or not to believe me.
“Who … are they, then? And what do they want?”
I regard her for a moment before tightening my robe once more and looking out the glass pane. The Spitfire is one of the faster ships in the known universe, with the combination of Firosan and Mahdfel tech, but the Thunderclap is catching up. I am not flying it correctly, and that knowledge is beyond frustrating. No one should be able to catch me.
“It is not your people, it’s mine,” I admit. Another shot glances off the shields and we experience another small wobble. “And they want me dead.”
Chapter Eight
Roxie
Dead?
“They are trying to kill us?” I demand, my voice cracking. It’s been a pretty long goddamn day and I would kill for some food and water, to be honest.
“Well,” the alien says, glancing to the side before allowing his piercing golden gaze to once again rest on my face. I feel the heat and the weight of his look, and it makes me feel exposed again. “Me.”
When we touched before, it felt … well, like something, for sure. No Earth man ever made me feel so electrified before. I haven’t actually met a Mahdfel in person before, but I had heard stories of how handsome and strong they were. I remember I would always scoff.
I’m not laughing anymore.
“It’s OK,” he says, letting out a breath. “I believe I know who it is shooting at us from the ship, and why they haven’t hit us critically yet.”
“You do?” I ask, wondering if I should be terrified or relieved. “Your friend, is it?”
“Actually … yes.” He glares over my shoulder at the ra
pidly approaching vessel. “Admiral of the fleet, and my superior.”
I understand the implications of this, and I can’t manage not to ask. “So you’re in the Mahdfel military?” I toss a glance over my own shoulder as another beam narrowly misses us. “Care to explain why his aim is so poor?” My eyebrows raise. “Is he missing on purpose?”
The alien looks grim. “Yes. I believe so.”
“Wow … as a favor to you? This is all getting pretty complex, right? What exactly is going on here?” I can feel my heartbeat kick up a notch. This is far more excitement than I think I’ve experienced … ever? And it’s all unravelling so fast.
He lets out a breath and looks away for a moment before answering. “No. I don’t believe so. This … this is his ship. I think he doesn’t want to damage her.”
I snort with unexpected laughter. “That’s genius! You planned that, right?” He shrugs and turns to walk away.
I can’t help but let my gaze linger on what looks like a rock hard sculpted ass underneath the thin material of his robe. “Hey,” I say, wandering after him. “I’m not going back into the cell, alright? Can you get me a shirt?”
Without thinking, as we pass his quarters he shrugs off the robe and hands it to me, and I catch a flash of purple butt just before his door shuts. When he returns, I am wrapped in the robe with it tied around my waist and he is dressed in what looks like a military uniform. Tight dark material with unrecognizable stripes at the collar. I guess that was all there was available to wear, and he does look a little uncomfortable in it. As if he doesn’t feel he deserves it.
Whatever he did, it wasn’t good.
I am reminded that, even though I don’t actually feel threatened, I am trapped with a fugitive warrior alien who is being pursued by one of the most powerful military forces in the known universe.
I should be keeping my guard up much more than I am, but for some reason I just feel at ease.
“What did you say your name was?” I pipe up as I trail after him to the bridge.
“I don’t believe I did,” he grumbles, settling himself down in front of the controls and letting out a breath. “Give me a moment, I must recall how to use this ship to the best of its abilities.”
“That’s fine,” I say, rubbing my upper arm. This is my chance. Before we engage warp drive or whatever he has up his tight sleeves, I could hop into the escape pod and see if the Admiral will pick me up. He might be suspicious but I’m sure I could explain myself.
That is … if he chooses to stop completely to pick up an unknown pod during the pursuit of a wanted criminal in his own ship. I’m not so sure how likely that rescue is. I rub my face hard.
The further I let him take me, the worse this is going to end up being.
“Vyken,” he says finally, grimacing at the controls in front of him.
“Is that a Mahdfelian curseword?” I ask.
He smirks. “It is my name. And for the future, Mahdfelian as a concept does not exist. The Mahdfel are a … cuckoo race. We latch onto the culture of our mother species. So the correct question would be if it were a Firosan word. And, actually, yes it is. It means…”
“No translation found,” my translator interrupts, shocking me to my core. “Closest approximation would be the relief that courses through the veins after finally giving in to bloodlust. It is a common name among warriors.”
I totally hadn’t asked. I wrinkle my nose at this new information. The guy in front of me, who kidnapped me while I was striding around lost in a bikini, is named after ‘that feeling you get’ after quenching a thirst for murder.
Great.
“Yours?”
I rub my arms, warmer now in this robe -- not that the ship is exactly cold, but I was still breaking out in goosebumps -- and wonder if I should fight my urge to answer truthfully. What use is there in lying to him?
“Roxie,” I say finally. He gives a terse nod, tapping something into the console in front of him. “You didn’t know my name? You didn’t know who I was?”
“I knew nothing,” he says, as if this throwaway piece of information is not important. I really beg to differ.
“So, um, why the hell did you take me, you goddamn animal?” I demand.
“Hold on.”
“Why? Why should I wait? You didn’t wait when you--”
“Roxie,” he growls, and the sound of him rumbling my name with authority makes my core clench and I hate that. “I mean hold on. Now!”
I catch his meaning just in time. I grip onto the chair nailed down beside me and my teeth chatter as we lurch before a slight ‘pop’ echoes through my ears. I don’t know anything about space flight, but one of my ex boyfriends was pretty into science fiction, and I wonder what is happening right now. Is this warp speed?
There’s a faint humming in my bones from the very belly of the ship as it hurtles through outer space, and then finally we stop accelerating and regulate, and I am able to swallow and take a seat, my eyebrows probably permanently raised now.
“Success,” he says with a giant grin. Then he turns to me. “Now. We are on our way to the planet Fera and I will take you as my prisoner to meet with the Oracle. Tell me -- how does that make you feel?”
“I’m not happy about you calling me your prisoner,” I snap. “Or the kidnap thing. The part where you took me away from my home planet … or the Oracle part, honestly, because that sounds sinister as hell. Does that answer your question?”
His jaw twitches as he clenches it, and I frown and look away. “No. I wanted to know how you would feel about going to Fera to speak to the Oracle.” A pause -- I feel as though I have already answered that? “Because the Oracle is all-knowing and will want the perpetrator punished.”
“I’ve told you already, dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong person. Maybe you went to the wrong planet, I don’t know.”
“Hmm. You really aren’t scared about facing the Oracle? Well … if you truly don’t know what happened on Fera, why was I sent to find you?”
He says the last word with the hint of a sneer and it makes my core tighten again, this time out of indignation. I think.
“I don’t know; how could I know? You’re clearly insane. And dangerous”
He lets out a snort of laughter, which surprises me, and I turn back to him with my lip twitching. He is smiling widely and shaking his head.
“I can’t say for sure I am not dangerous, but I’m sure I am not insane,” he says. “The Oracle said I wasn’t, and so did Aphrodite.”
“Right,” I say dryly, “but who are they, exactly?”
“A glowing omniscient fungus underground on a distant planet, and a disembodied artificial intelligence, of course,” he says with certainty. I flick my eyes to the roof of the ship and then back down. Even his expression falters. “I do not feel as though I am insane.”
I do have to admit, although he hasn’t exactly made a great first impression, he doesn’t exactly seem unhinged to me. He was probably right about me not getting into that escape pod.
Just as I’m struggling internally with how to feel about the man who has captured me, he stands up and regards me. “You will be hungry,” he says. “And thirsty. Would you come with me while I find you something? I don’t wish to leave you alone with the ship’s controls. Just in case. I hope you understand.”
I can’t help but laugh at the twitch in his brow when he apologizes to me.
“You’re not a very good prison guard,” I tell him.
“I am not?”
“No, but that’s OK. That’s a good thing.” I pause. “You need to take me home. You’re already in enough trouble, Vyken. This is just going to make it worse. I don’t know what the fungus told you but it’s not me you want. You have to take me home.”
We are in the kitchen now and he pauses with his fingers at the controls for the food replicator, deep in thought.
“Could it be possible the Oracle got it wrong?”
I don�
�t know what to say, but I can see I’m making progress so I rest a hand on his upper arm. It’s so firm that I let go again, uncomfortable at the thoughts of touching him more that are running through my head.
“Must have,” I say gently, my heart beating a little faster. Is he actually going to take me home? “You don’t want to be in any more trouble.”
He taps a couple more times on the replicator and then after a heavy silence he hands me a bowl of greenish soup and a cup of water. I thank him as politely as I can manage, and he heaves a sigh and sits down, pulling out his communicator and staring at it.
I sit there and taste the soup. It really badly needs salt but it’s asparagus or spinach or something -- definitely from Earth; it could be worse, for sure. I was expecting something alien, but the tech the Firosan Mahdfel have seems pretty advanced and reliable.
After a while he twists his lips with concern. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says finally. “I just got a notification.” He turns the screen towards me and I scoot closer to squint at it.
“Calling all members of the Mahdfel Military.
Earth Citizen Roxie Lake, 26, has evaded her responsibilities as a DNA bride. She was last seen in the Caribbean, Earth. An unauthorized Mahdfel military vessel was also sighted in the area within the hour.
This is a serious offence. Please hand in all relevant information on Ms Lake to Earth authorities or your nearest Alliance officers.
She will face life imprisonment back on Earth, so please do not enact any vigilante justice.
Any lifeforms found to be harboring Ms Lake will be dealt with by the Alliance.”
It takes me an uncharacteristically long time to read this message. The man at the resort. The person who kept calling my name. I hadn’t been imagining it at all -- I was right to be paranoid. Ha!
Although I can’t be triumphant for too long, because the true meaning of these words sinks in to my mind and I gulp almost comically.
Vyken: (Warriors of Firosa Book 3) Page 3