by Bobbi Ross
"See that you are." The image on the screen disappeared leaving only a view of the vast expanse of space in front of his ship.
What the prak is going on? Liam pushed a hand through the thick waves of his jet black hair. "Set a course for that vessel," he commanded to his helmsman. Who knows what they would find there.
Chapter 5
“Are you ready Captain?” Lieutenant Cobbs hollered.
“Yes, we are. It’s a go,” I uttered after a quick glance around, making sure everyone was in position.
I covered my ears as the countdown started. Not exactly the most technologically savvy of methods, but with our limited budget three cans of Ursidiand Thermite, extra strength dishwashing detergent lit by a plasma fuse would have to do. Three – two – one.
BOOM!
The thick metal door exploded off at its hinges clanging and banging until it came to a screeching halt somewhere deep inside the cargo hold of the Alliance ship we had boarded.
"That should definitely take the fight out of them. Zero casualties would make me a very happy Captain." I intoned, shooting meaningful glares toward Trex and my lieutenants. Even with my ears plugged up, the noise had still been deafening. I'd be surprised if anyone inside the hold hadn't been rendered completely unconscious from the concussive force of the blast. Yay to the ensign's abnormal penchant for hording cleaning supplies. I’ll never question it again.
The Alliance ship had been relatively easy enough to subdue. Two well targeted light shots to their main engine, and they were dead in space. Which was very lucky considering my chief engineer’s extremely low estimates on our ship's weapons reserves. How did she put it? 'If the fight went beyond more than three shots at 49% power, we’d have to lean out the windows and throw reconstituted waste pellets at them.'
Anya and her newly stocked engineering crew of recently liberated Novokin Alliance slaves were already busy stripping both the lower and upper decks of cargo, circuit boards, power couplings and anything Anya considered "necessary" to get the Razor into fighting shape. I wasn't sure how necessary the full-length platinum framed mirror, we found tightly packed away on the deck below was, but far be it for me to argue with my chief engineer.
The smoke cleared from the doorway and one of the lieutenants whistled. "I don't think this is a standard cargo hold Captain."
“No kidding Lieutenant,” I mumbled as we stood just inside the entrance of a ridiculously posh apartment. Every corner of the room was filled with lush sofas and daybeds, all lined with rich embroidered tapestries, animal furs and silks. Great paintings from the masters of my world, like Solera and Paluifs hung in gold and jewel encrusted frames, fighting for space on the walls of the massive studio apartment. A large ornately carved bar stood at the far corner of the room, next to a deep dark purple hot tub where priceless sculptures were reduced to acting as clothes hangers. I tried to keep my mouth from hanging agape as I took in the audacity of the room.
A faint growl next to me made me turn away from the stolen treasures of my planet. Trex’s hazel eyes focused on the far left end of the room. "Scatter!" he yelled, a second before Trex crushed me into his massive chest, throwing us both onto the floor behind a big, fat couch. Brilliant beams of light exploded over our position.
His rough voice whispered into my ear sending chills through me, “There are three armed men shooting at us with plasma rifles. They are standing in front of the bar. Another one is hiding in the hot tub. Does not appear to be armed, but can not be certain.” He lifted his head and looked me in the eye to make sure I understood. I nodded in the affirmative.
"Set your weapons to stun,” I ordered my crew. “No killings here today. I want to find out who in blue blazes we’re dealing with," I barked to my lieutenants, safely huddled behind the second largest couch in the room. I watched as multiple energy discharges tore overhead and peppered the wall behind us with black blast marks. My soul cringed when one of the Paluifs took a hit. I risked a glance around the thick lilac cushions of the fainting couch Trex and I now crouched behind.
“The weapons’ signature is Novokin,” he informed. Heat radiated from his dazzling face, barely an inch from mine.
“I realized that, but these are Terrans,” I uttered. The puzzling factor was that the shooters' skins lacked the telltale purple hue that screamed Novokin. These were Terrans.
We exchanged a volley of fire for a good five minutes. The more I thought about it, the more I knew casualties would be inevitable. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t bare to lose any more of my people. After three years, only nine of us were left, from a full complement of 150 souls. That pain was worse than death. And right then, the fear was gone, the anxiety of today's decision and our current situation melted off me like stingerhoney wax on a plasma coil. I leaned on my knee, as I would make the next shot count by–.
Strong, calloused hands spun me around and embraced me with a fevered urgency. Trex's luscious lips pressed hard on to mine, his tongue forced my lips open and probed my willing mouth, devouring me. What the prak was he doing? My brain screamed for me to push him away but my body refused to comply, held spellbound by the fierce passion of his kiss. I was overcome by irrational desire to simply let go and let this male possess me. Utterly, completely, right then and there.
He retreated slowly, seconds extended into what seemed like hours, his teeth tugging gently at the bottom of my lip. Leaving me breathless and stunned on the floor. Then he was gone.
I watched, unable to move, as his massive but lithe form vaulted over the couch, two chairs and then an end table. He absorbed blast after blast from the Novokin plasma rifles. With the grace of a dancer and the power and the ferocity of a jungle cat, he retched rifle after rifle from the enemy’s shaking hands. My heated core quivered with need at the sight of his deliciously toned body in action. Powerful muscles rippled under golden skin, working almost musically to disarm the men firing at us. I could almost feel those massive muscles of his contracting against mine, as his body claimed mine, his calloused hands stroking every part of my femininity with the same deft skill.
Whoa! Reality to Caspia! I needed to get a hold of myself. I’m in the middle of a fight and I’m the frigging Captain. Have to stay focused. Regardless, I was impressed he left them only with sore wrists, broken trigger fingers and one bloody nose. Not bad if you consider they were trying to kill us a minute ago.
I allowed myself a glance or two as a delicious half-naked Trex secured the prisoners and disabled their weaponry, dripping a whole lot of sexy while he did it. I wasn't sure whether to be angry with him, congratulate him or just have my way with him right then and there. The taste of him still lingered in my lips making it hard to think.
Fine, he may have succeeded in disarming the goons, and did so without anyone getting hurt, but he disregarded orders and went over my head. He manipulated the situation and acted on his own accord. His recklessness could have jeopardized this mission, and my crew’s survival. I couldn’t have that. He’d have to be dealt with. I was the Captain after all, albeit to seventeen people after we dropped the young Floturan girl off with a nice Floturan couple, on a nearby, terraformed agricultural asteroid. I was still the Captain. He’ll have to learn to abide by the rules and follow protocol, or I’ll have to break out the butt whooping.
The shrill cackles of what sounded like an angry Shridarian vole shook me out of my revelry.
A quick gesture and Lieutenant Dodson flanked my advance as we crept over to peer at whoever or whatever was causing a ruckus in the hot tub. Bubbles broke the surface of the dark purple tub and we both looked at each other.
“Should we wait for him to run out of air Captain?” My lieutenant asked clamping his lips, a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Before I had a chance to reply, a tiny, semi-bald, weasel looking man, burst out of the bubbling water gasping for air, wearing a barely-there micro strap of foil-colored cloth over his tiny man finger, tight enough to force his giggleberries to hang o
ut, one from either side. I blanched while lieutenant Dodson turned his head and made a retching noise.
"Captain, my eyes! They're melting!" He feigned pain, covering his face with both his hands.
For prak’s sake. Protocol has really gone the way of the Gulurian dodo on my ship.
The wee, mostly naked Terran man, pushing 70 attempted to crawl out of the swirling tub looking very much like a drunk penguin trying to mount an ice-walrus.
"How dare you! How dare you attack me! Do you people know who you're dealing with?" His face flushed with anger. I offered no hand as he slipped on the edge, sputtering curses and clawed at the sides to get out. Once free, he approached me, wielding an ugly glare. The lieutenant snapped his rifle up, but I motioned for him to stand down. The tiny manlet stood just below my height. He pointed a gangly finger at me and repeatedly air poked me with it.
“I will have you executed on the spot for attacking a Novokin vessel, and destroying my apartment,” he threatened, frothing at the mouth. “Do you know what you’ve cost me today? And do you have any idea who I am?” He barked. Spittle flying everywhere.
I stepped close enough to smell the expensive alcohol on his fetid breath. "Oh I think I do. I recognize you,” I hissed, my upper lip curling up to unveil my pearly white canines. Which are pretty impressive for a Terran, if I do say so myself.
“You're Ruten Flores, the previous Minister of education from New Astoria, under the Protectorate, if memory serves me right. Now I believe you are the Prime Minister of New Astoria, under the Novokin Alliance occupation."
Chapter 6
"How dare you board my ship? I'll have you arrested. I'll have you and all of your crew executed for this." The little man in the pink silk robe stomped a feathered slipper.
My lieutenant had finally gotten sick of staring at his nearly nude form and had chosen attire for the prime minister. Minister Flores was not amused. His voice rose and then rose some more, like the giant waves of the New Astorian West Sea. I turned away from the spitting and frothing of his ultimatums to consider exactly what we stumbled into.
“You know Senator... I'm so sorry. Forgive my breach of protocol, I meant Prime Minister. Our fortuitous meeting today brings me great joy. Do you know why?” My eyes drilled into his.
He turned his head away from me, grimacing his impatience. I guess I was beneath him. One of my eyebrows perked up sucking up all my annoyance. “Because, I’ve been dying to ask. Where were you Prime Minister? Why didn’t you die on that day? The day the Novokins massacred New Astoria. ”
He was conveniently absent. Possible. I could see him in a stupor, hung over from a night of debauchery in a hotel room on the morning of the attack, somewhere outside the main center of the city. The Novokins however, have shown that they don't have a very forgiving nature. They engaged in mass executions on a multitude of Protectorate worlds after the surrender. Why would they let this little, sniveling, sorry excuse for a man live? Not only live, but take the title of prime minister of a world under their purview? I spun on him, fixing the little skeck with my death stare. Coincidentally, his mouth stopped making talky talky noises.
"If the Senate was in session and all of your fellow ministers were killed in the last bombing of New Astoria, why are you still alive?" I stilled myself, fighting the urge to wrap my fingers around this sheetek's scrawny neck.
As expected, he backed away. No hole for him to slink into or rock to hide under, he stammered a reply, "I ...I ... someone had to save New Astoria. Someone had to have the fortitude to save our galaxy. Someone had to bring peace." He drew himself up to his full unimpressive height.
"Peace? You brought foxes into the hen house Prime Minister. No, what am I thinking? Foxes devour their prey. These were butchers!"
"How could you possibly know anything about what happened? You're nothing but a lowly pirate." Hiding behind his Alliance granted title, he looked down his nose at us.
"I was a Captain in the United Worlds Protectorate Fleet," I hissed, smashing a very expensive looking crystal vase, on the table beside me, with my fist. Everyone, including my crew stiffened, as I took a moment to pretend to compose myself.
"My crew and I were fighting for our worlds. We were fighting for our galaxy. We were winning, and you –you surrendered," I roared. I had to keep up the charade, his only weapons being words and subterfuge, he couldn't know I was on to him.
"When you disobeyed the order of the Senate's general assembly to surrender Captain, you became a traitor." He snickered at me, and then found something very interesting on his hand to stare at.
"Tell me Ruten, what is it you're trying to hide from me?" His eyes went wide and he twisted his face up in disgust.
I thought I had him, then he did something I couldn’t have predicted. Whipping his head back and then forward, he let fly what appeared to be a nasty phlegm-filled hock of sputum. I braced for impact, not even having the time to pray, when a large golden hand reached out in front of my face and caught the nastiness. Damn, the golden barbarian was fast. This move earned him major points in my book. Maybe I’d go easy on him for kissing me without my permission, disregarding my orders, and then saving all of our patooties.
Trex then proceeded to backhand the prime minister halfway across the room. He crumbled in a heap at the foot of a statue of two Celexian boars rutting. Can't believe he tried to spit on me. I guess he was closer breaking than I thought. My words echoed my feelings. "That's just –nasty."
It did however provide me with an opportunity. I took my time getting over to the sorry lump of prime minister, still mewing and bleeding onto the floor below me. I made a show of fiddling with my pistol. When he caught on to what I was doing, he began to whimper, and tried to drag himself away from me.
I stomped my foot down between his legs, catching the silk robe. This sent the little prime minister into a fit of tears, shaking his head at the torture he suspected was coming, and no doubt he deserved.
Pressing the trigger on my gun, the light arced out in the shape of a long blade. I held it dangerously close to his ugly, frightened face for the briefest of moments. Then, in a swift, violent move I stabbed it down between his open legs, slicing off a piece of the robe. Grabbing it up with my free hand, I slowly made my way back through the destruction caused by the prime minister's unscheduled flight until I stood in front of the golden giant’s rippling chest who had defended my honor. Not that I’d asked for it.
Trex’s eyes were cold, distant and his jaw was clenched tight, as if expecting to be dressed down for his actions. I tried to be serious, but a brief, chaste smile escaped my captain's veneer. I presented him the cloth. "Here, wipe that off. It's disgusting." I’d rake him over the coals later, in private.
I turned my attention back to the prime minister. "In my experience, the only people that bark so loudly when they lose, are liars and cheaters. Let me ask you again, Mister Prime Minister, what are you trying to hide from me?"
Chapter 7
Maybe, she wasn’t mad at him after all. He had done what he did to protect her, and he’d do it again. No matter how angry she got.
Her actions that day on the Deep Proteus space station 5 had forced him back onto an honorable path. She was a beacon of light, cutting through the darkness of his universe. Her spark gave him a reason to hope. To fight. Beyond his need for vengeance, he felt a greater need to keep her safe. To be there for her. And he’d do it whether she wished it or not. The corners of his mouth curled up. She would never back down. Never from a fight, not with him, not with anybody – it wasn’t in her nature. She would keep fighting, she would win her war and he would show her how.
Be that as it may, he had more pressing matters, mainly the rodent he smelled. The prime minister was hiding something. Something bad. Trex took measure of Caspia and her two lieutenants. They were competent, but he knew how to get information out of people. Bad people. And the prime minister was as bad as they came. The twisting in his gut said as much and his gut was nev
er wrong. Besides, he was the prime minister of a Novokin occupied world and he would have access to certain information, like the coordinates of all the Novokin Captains’ ships posted in his region of space. He was interested in a specific Novokin Captain. Captain Veldar Asmot. The monster that annihilated his planet, murdered his people and enslaved his galaxy.
“Captain Jones, may I have a word?”
“Can it wait, Trex?”
“No Captain, it can not.”
“Fine,” she sighed and gestured for him to follow her into the next room.
He paused for a second to let her lead the way. He enjoyed watching her ample curves move and shake as she trod hastily across the room. Her luscious, brown hair was tied up in a knot and bounced freely like the tail of a leapsquirrel, waking the hunter in him. His cock stirred in his tight pants, straining against the hard fabric she had insisted he wear on this mission. He preferred his tattered loin cloth to these confining fabrics but she insisted it was inappropriate and if he wanted to stay on her ship, he’d have to at least wear pants. He had no choice. He’d do anything to please her. Without warning the sway of her hips stopped, and she spun around. He quickly snapped back to the present, when her spin had him drooling at her tantalizing sex which seemed to be calling for his attention through her skintight uniform. With supreme effort he lifted his gaze to hers and was immediately consumed by the fire burning in her beautiful, big, fearless eyes.
“Actually Trex, I need to talk to you first.”
“Of course Captain.”
Her hands sat comfortably on the curves of her voluptuous hips, taking an offensive stance. Her breathtaking stare focused completely on him. This could not be good. He has known this posture from his mother and it never turned up well for his father, himself nor his brothers and sisters. He winced inside readying himself for the blow.