Alien Rogue's Price: Alpha Alien Romance (Alpha Aliens of Fremm Book 4)

by Nancey Cummings

  Fine, my journey to the medical had a lot to do with hoping to catch Meyet. More than a lot. Everything. Are you happy now?

  The Medical Bay was in disarray when I arrived. Equipment and medications had been tossed into a large plastic bin the middle of the room. Large equipment was pushed away from the walls. At the center of this chaos was Meyet. She would hold a bottle up to a scanner, read the results, then toss the bottle into the bin before repeating the process.

  Her blonde hair was up again in a messy ponytail, but most of it had already escaped and was dangling around her shoulders. She wore a white lab coat over a long sunshine-yellow tunic, belted at the waist, with white trousers. I recognized the garment. It used to be in Resolve’s rotation. It looked better on Meyet, and not just the way the high slit accentuated the curve of her hips. The color suited her. Also, those hips.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. What was wrong with me? This Terran was literally tearing apart my medical bay and my defective brain kept fixating on how tasty she looked in a second hand outfit?

  That lab coat was pretty damn irresistible, though. Maybe I had a thing for women in authority.

  “What in the blasted galaxy are you doing, woman?”

  She blinked slowly, pushing back the hair from her forehead. “Your medical facility is a joke.”

  “It’s fine,” I growled. There was nothing wrong with Promontory’s medical facility. It patched up the crew. End of discussion.

  “Sure, stand there and be all sexy and growly, but this is serious.”

  “It’s my ship. I decide what’s serious.” I kept my voice low and threatening but only with effort. She said I was sexy. No smiling, Ruush. Use your serious face.

  “Look,” she said slowly, like she was speaking to a simpleton. “I know you believe you don’t need a doctor but I’m bored. So I’m organizing this mess you call a Med Bay.”

  “And yet it worked fine without your meddling.”

  “Fine?” Meyet moved quickly to the bin and grabbed a bottle. She shoved it in my face. “Lanolset? Really?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” It was a common treatment for anaphylactic reactions. Handy stuff.

  “Beyond the fact that it was discontinued twelve years ago? Let me think…” She tapped the battle to her chin in a contemplative manner. “Well, considering this bottle is ancient, the active ingredients have long since degraded. So if you wander into a field of Drifting Bindweed, your throat closes up, and you die. And even if by some miracle the drug actually worked, it is intolerable to the Tal. So you killed half your crew. Good job, Captain.”

  I snatched the bottle from her hand. She couldn’t be right.

  “You need a doctor,” she said.

  “The fact that we have a twelve-year-old bottle tells you how often the crew actually uses it. Meaning we don’t. Not even once. We’re fine.”

  “Sure, maybe you don’t go traipsing through dangerous flora but cuts? Lacerations? Stabbing? I bet you get your share.”

  A rumble started in my chest when she offered to bet me. I couldn’t resist a bet with my sweet kitten but now was not the time. I nodded, hesitantly. This was a trap. A gorgeous, angry trap. But at this point, I didn’t really care. She was talking to me. I’d let her tear apart my ship if it meant she’d keep talking to me. My hand was back to rubbing the bridge of my nose. What was wrong with me?

  “So what treatment do you go for when you got a nice gash on your thigh or stomach?”

  “Knitting gel.”

  Meyet grabbed a handful of knitting gel tubes from the discard bin. “These? The ones that expired three years ago?”

  “They still work.”

  “Bullshit. The compound that does all that wonderful knitting has a short shelf life. Meaning it spoils. So you’d be bleeding your guts out and just smearing useless green goo on it. And don’t get me started on the equipment!”

  “What wrong with the equipment?”

  She placed both hands on the examination table. Her cheeks flushed pink. It was really hard to pay attention to what she was saying when I was staring at her petal-colored lips.

  “Are you even listening?”

  “Sorry?” For once, I was glad I did not have the luminescent reaction of the Fremm. It would only betray my dirty day dreams and desires.

  “You know this stuff has to be serviced, right?”

  “And you, kitten?” My leer was well over-the-top.

  She drew back, one hand clutching her lab coat closed. “What?”

  “Do you require servicing? A woman as tasty as yourself must have needs.”

  The pink blush intensified but she chose to ignore me. “There’s no maintenance records. When was it calibrated? Software updated? Parts wear out. You’d be lucky if this thing could diagnose the sniffles. Actually, you’re lucky you’ve never been seriously injured.”

  I stood opposite the examination table. I placed my hands on the gleaming white surface and leaned forward, staring directly into her leaf-green eyes. I hated being ignored. “You think I’m sexy?”

  I couldn’t fight the self-satisfied grin. She took one peek at my face and rolled her eyes, pulling away. I liked this side of her, the fighter. So much more interesting than the shaking little kitten I found in a crate.

  “You made your point,” I said. I wasn’t changing the plan. Not even for my fighting kitten. I had too much riding on it to let a prize like Avalon get away. “Order the supplies we need.”

  Her eyes sparkled in triumph. “Anything we need?”

  “We’re not a surgical facility. Be reasonable.”

  She snorted and turned back to the open cabinet. “You gonna help me or stand there?”

  Even after all of that, I didn’t mind moving heavy equipment or hauling the bin to the recycler. After all, she thought I was sexy.

  Meyet

  A brief knock sounded before the med bay door opened. Hilly stood at the threshold for a moment, hands buried in pants pockets, before entering. “Got a minute, doc?” Hilly asked.

  I sat down my tablet. Ruush wasn’t going to like the purchase order but the med bay desperately needed to be restocked. I gave Hilly a quick visual scan: lower lip ragged from chewing, hands in pockets, slouched shoulders. She needed to talk about something medical, something potentially embarrassing, and I was the only doctor available. “I’m not the ship’s doctor.” Not that I would turn her away.

  “But you are in the med bay,” Hilly said. “I figure you can’t stand to be away the same way I can’t stand to away from the engine room.”

  Fair enough. “What’s the issue?”

  Hilly opened her mouth to speak but the comm interrupted her. “Hilly, the sani system is on the blink again.” Over the comm system, Ruush’s voice scratched and echoed.

  Hilly rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you would let me upgrade it, instead of just patching the ancient technology.”

  “Just fix it.” The comm disconnected with a buzz. More ancient technology.

  Hilly frowned. “The Captain insists on everything being ‘original.’ The trouble is this model is ninety years out of production. I spend most of my time scavenging junk yards for spare parts.”

  Ruush did not seem the sentimental type. “You had something you wanted to show me?”

  “You lived on Talmar, right?”

  I nodded. “My whole life.”

  “So you’ve had,” Hilly’s gaze shifted to her boots, a furious scarlet blush on her cheeks, “experience with Tal men?”

  Not really, but my personal experience was not the issue. Doctors got accustomed to talking about sex quickly. In med school, an instructor told me that people loved to talk about sex and poop. Among my Tal and Terran patients, I’d found that to be true. “I’m positive you’re not here for a lecture on xeno-human relations,” I said.

  Hilly shook her head. “No, I’m-”

  I waved my hand towards the exam table. “Show me the problem area.” While Hilly disrobed, I washed my hands in the
sonic cleanser. Love scratches were common enough. I’d treated plenty. The Tal had retractable claws but their control could slip when things got exciting. Between two Tal, it didn’t matter. Their thick skin was resistant to most injury. Terrans were not so lucky.

  Hilly laid face down on the bed, trousers and undergarments off. Bright red claw marks adorned her butt cheeks and thighs, right where a lover would grip her curves. The skin was red and inflamed. Faded, pale pink marks marred her otherwise flawless dark skin. The bed automatically scanned her, sending the readings to my tablet.

  “How recent?” I asked.

  “About a week. Normally, I heal right up but these hurt. I can’t sit or sleep.”

  “I’m going to touch you now,” I said. Gently, I inspected the wounds. They were not deep but they had never been properly treated. A slight prod made Hilly suck in her breath.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked. “I knew I should have gone to the blasted clinic on Talmar when I had a chance.”

  “It’s not bad,” I said. “The love scratches are just in a place you’re constantly irritating.”

  “That the medical term? It sounds like something you whisper in the school yard.”

  “Yes, that’s the term. I take it this is your first Tal partner. Vex or Rise? Resolve?” Not her first time, judging by the faded scars on her thigh and hips.

  I reached for the knitting gel and cleanser, so I couldn’t say if Hilly blushed. Her tone, however, was sheepish. “Stars, Doc, you’re blunt.”

  “If you don’t like my bedside manner, you can file a complaint with the Captain,” I said. When I was in my white coat, I was always forthright and blunt. It was my armor. Outside of med bay, outside of my element, I was vulnerable, and not a huge fan of that sensation. Besides, a doctor who pussyfoots around the important issues was useless.

  Hilly snorted. “Vex tries to be careful but you know how excitable he is.”

  Vex, huh? The surly man didn’t seem Hilly’s type but space was cold and empty. Long journeys made for many unlikely shipboard romances.

  “I can imagine. Lay still. I’m going to clean the wound. It’ll sting but because I like you, I’ll use the gentle one.” I sprayed a thin layer of the cleanser over her bottom and thighs. The substance foamed when it made contact with the open wound. Hilly sucked in her breath but did not complain. When the foam dissipated, I applied the knitting gel. All the supplies came from my own kit. “Lay still for a few minutes for the gel to dry.”

  “Sure, doc. I love having my ass exposed for all the world to see.”

  “That sass mouth won’t make the gel dry faster,” I said. Hilly snorted. “Any other location that needs mending?”

  “No, just my poor ass. Is it supposed to keep stinging?”

  “That sting is how you know it’s working.” Not true at all. “I don’t have any regeneration pills, so you’re going to have to live with the scars until I can get this med bay restocked.”

  “I don’t mind. Not enough folks get a gander of my posterior for me to care. The man who does see it seems to like it just fine,” Hilly said. She paused, as if she wanted to say more. “Is it true what they say about poison?” Ah, now we were getting closer to why she was haunting my med bay.

  “That’s an old rumor.” I went to a cabinet and looked through bottles.

  “Vex is all worried that the poison did this. That’s why I won’t heal and he’s to blame. He said-”

  “Vex is wrong,” I said. My hand wrapped around the bottle I needed. “That’s an old wives’ tale.”

  “But-”

  “No. If Tal had poison in their claws, we’d know by now.” Fully extended claws were dangerous weapons. I’d seen the damage first hand, stitching together the wrecked flesh of Calmness’s cage fighters. The lacerations were traumatic but they were not poisoned, just simple torn flesh. While mating, a Tal would retract the claws. Yet, the persistent rumors that Tal would poison their Terran mates refused to die. “It’s xenophobic scaremongering, and completely unfounded.”

  “But it hurts so bad. He’d never hurt me like this and it won’t heal.”

  “Accidents happen.”

  “That’s not comforting. Aren’t you supposed to comfort me? I think I will complain to the Captain about your bedside manner.”

  “I’m not here to be warm and cuddly. It hurts because the scratches flex when you move or sit. Now, you told me Vex tries to be careful. Were you lying?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Back on Talmar, a Tal wears claw caps to protect their Terran partner. I take it Vex doesn’t have any?” The caps were a thin layer of durable plastic that covered the shaft and tip of the claw, rendering them blunt. I’d seen the disposable kind and even elaborate, ornate sets. Not in person; only on the claws of an extraordinarily vain Tal man who liked to parade around his beautiful Terran mate.

  “He did.” But not now. “They wore out.”

  “You can get dressed.”

  Once dressed, I pressed the bottle into her hands. It was small with an applicator built into the top. “Plasterine. It’s used to set broken bones.” The thin plastic material was brushed on wet over the broken area. It dried rock hard and left a durable, non-bulky cast. “One drop, right on the tip of the claw. Spread it around like you’re painting your fingernails.” I examined Hilly’s hands, fingernails rough and grease embedded in the cuticles. Not the best example but it got the point across.

  “Like I ever did that,” she said, slipping the bottle into her pants pocket. “What if he doesn't want to wear this stuff?”

  “Then tie his hands together. I’m sure you got the equipment for some restraints.”

  Hilly’s blush was furiously red. For a rough around the edges engineer, she was awfully sensitive about sex.

  “A scarf or belt would work. He might not like it but you won’t get scratched up.”

  “Hey, doc. How’d you know to use this stuff?”

  “I was adopted by a Tal family. The boys played rough.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Meyet

  “You sure this is safe?” I asked. Six medical stasis chambers were open and ready for the crew. Built directly into the wall, a secret panel hid the chambers. This was a smuggler’s ship, after all, and it was full of places to stash people.

  Hilly, ship’s engineer, was on her back on the floor, hooking up the last of the stasis tubes. A stained blue kerchief held back her curly hair from her face. Her dark eyes went wide. “What are you saying, doc? You checked the equipment, right?”

  “You’re the engineer. Equipment maintenance isn’t in my job description.”

  Hilly gave the tube a satisfied pat before climbing to her feet. “Guess we’re boned. Or frozen.” Nothing fazed that woman.

  “There’s no way this is going to work,” I said.

  Ruush shrugged his shoulders. Insufferable man. “Of course it will work. Scanners won’t get through the walls so the crew will be safe and sound.”

  “And you happen to have an undetectable bank of stasis chambers on board.”

  “You would not believe how often we have to hide the crew.”

  Jonee, blonde hair in a neat braid, nodded enthusiastically. “One time on Talmar, Ruush lost way too much…”

  Ruush cut her story short with a glare. “We need the ship to haul the supplies. We can’t exactly carry it all in our pockets. I can get two of us past quarantine, not eight. So yeah, I’m putting the crew on ice for a few days.”

  “Can you even fly this thing?”

  A cocky smile broke over his face. “Sure thing, kitten. I just hired Jonee because I felt sorry for her.”

  “Hey! I’m the best damn pilot you’ve got to fly this bucket of bolts,” Jonee said.

  Ruush made a tsk-tsk noise as Jonee settled into the stasis chamber. He placed the breather over her face and hooked her into the machine.

  Slowly, we hooked the rest of the crew into the chambers. Satisfied with stable vitals, Ruush slid the
panel back and the chambers vanished. The wall closed without a seam on the glossy white and blue surface, giving no hint of a secret compartment. Smugglers invested in good engineering, it seemed.

  “One question,” I said. Ruush cocked his head to one side, waiting. “Did you deal Dust at the Academy?”

  He chuckled, walking away. “You won’t win the bet that easily.”

  “A performance enhancing drug?”

  “Cold.”

  “Steroids?”

  “Colder than a frozen lump of solucan in winter.”

  I followed Ruush to the bridge, where he took the helm with confidence. Maybe he could fly this thing after all. Avalon appeared on the view screen, blue and green and mostly water. Habitable Terrans worlds were the same in that regard.

  The spaceport hailed the ship. “Promontory. This is Avalon Control. You are entering a quarantine zone.”

  “Avalon Control, this is Captain et Rueben. I always wanted to see your lovely beaches in the middle of an epidemic. Are you saying my vacation is ruined?”

  I took a deep, calming breath. I was not going to get upset that Ruush has decided now was the time to inflict his wit on hapless bystanders. Besides, I didn’t even want to do this. I wanted our mission to fail. So why was I gripping the armrest of my seat?

  But Avalon Control seemed charmed. “Strictly VIP this time of year. Too rich for your Fremmian blood, Ruush. And what happened to Jonee? I’d rather talk to her than your ugly mug.”

  Ruush turned to me and winked. Typical. He said, “I’m transporting Doctor Meyet sama Yvar, my wife. She’s here for the IHO clinic.”

  A pause. “Clearance granted. Dock your ship and report to Immigration.”

  Ruush’s attention went back to the controls. He engaged autopilot and the ship smoothly moved forward into an assigned bay.

  I ran through the script. Resolve coached me on the plan. I was a doctor sent by the IHO. (That was true.) Ruush was my husband. (Not true). This was our private ship. (Half true.) Resolve said it was best to keep the fibs to a minimum. The more elaborate the lie, the easier it would be to trip on the details and expose the crew. Keep it simple. Right.