Sleko’s eyes slitted almost shut. His growl vibrated over Susa’s skin and caused every hair on her body to stand on end. “I sell. Just would like to keep.”
Scar hissed, then nodded. “Good. No change mind. We partners.”
The other brother who had a vertical scar across his lipless mouth opening—she’d named him Split-Lip—looked from Sleko to Scar and said, “Yes partners. Money good. Buy many weapons. Many women.”
Sleko turned his attention toward Susa and eyed her as if she were his favorite plate of protein glop. “No women like her. But … agree. Money better.”
If she weren’t so scared, she’d have found the whole discussion oddly flattering since her value could be measured in many weapons and even more whores. She mentally giggled, a giggle that sounded somewhat hysterical in her mind’s ear.
Stop it. Don’t lose it now. Time for that later once you’re free.
Susa took one deep breath, then let it out slowly. Too bad the brothers hadn’t challenged Sleko to a fight over her. Divide and conquer sounded good, but she wasn’t in the best position to capitalize on such a windfall.
Another full breath followed by another bite of the glop. Patience. Her time would come. She needed to stay alert, keep up her strength, and eat even more tasteless drek.
The three brothers turned their over-energetic attention back to their food and proceeded to create a chorus of gurgles and slobbering sounds. Even with all the noise, a slight rustling by her ankle managed to catch her attention. The faint sound was followed by a soft brushing over her skin of something furred. Geep, geep. The small noise seemed reassuring, followed by another swipe of softness over her ankle.
Susa stifled a startled gasp. There was something alive under the table. At the moment, the creature didn’t “feel” dangerous, especially since whatever was down there was currently gently stroking her and—purring?
Reaching out with her empathic sense, images suddenly swamped her mind. Her naked calf. The underside of the table. A mental picture of the creature’s sense of itself—a small ball of something akin to wildly kinked brown-gray yarn. Then the obviously sentient and telepathic creature sent thoughts and feelings of goodwill, demonstrating it meant her no harm. It was hungry and had somehow sensed she didn’t like her food.
The small creature’s hunger was a gnawing, burning pain. It was all she could do to contain a moan at the depth of its hunger. Realizing it had caused her pain, the little creature blocked its feelings from her.
She exhaled in relief. Not being telepathic, she used her empathic ability and projected a mental thank you.
A small geep reached her ears.
Susa glanced at Sleko and his brothers. They were still shoveling in food, conversing loudly in their own language—the auto-translator turned off—and not paying her any direct attention. She took a spoonful of the protein glop and slowly lowered it under the cover of the edge of the table.
The creature hopped onto her lap, easily hidden under the table overhang, and delicately, quietly cleaned off the spoon.
Okay? She thought to the little animal in her lap.
It licked her fingers. A full spoon image appeared in her mind.
Taking the actions as a thank-you and request for more, Susa loaded up the spoon and offered it once more. With the brothers fully occupied, she ended up feeding her new friend half the food on the plate. She nibbled on some bread-like wafers because she still needed to keep up her strength for later.
The creature made a tiny noise as if it sensed her fears. The animal delicately probed her mind; her normal mental wards were no defense against this little animal.
Name? She couldn’t continue to think of her new companion and fellow prisoner on this ship as the ball of fur or little animal or creature.
All Susa received in return to her question was a sense of confusion. Obviously names weren’t something its species used. She projected an image of herself and then mentally pointed to it. I am Susa.
Again, feelings of confusion, but this time it sent an image of itself back, but with no name.
I will call you Geep. Is that okay?
A tiny lick of her fingers made her smile.
“You did good.” Sleko’s voice made her jump.
Geep slid down her legs and scurried off, a little dusty brown blur in her peripheral vision. It sent images of her cabin and reassurances she’d be okay. It would help her. She appreciated Geep’s optimism, but didn’t hold out much hope that her new friend could take down three huge Dornians.
Sleko poured himself a glass of Valerian whiskey. He picked up a box of cookies and tossed them in front of her. “Here. We no like.” He then shoved a glass of the whiskey across to her. “You eat. Drink. Then we fuck.”
Burning nausea welled in her throat.
Scar and Split-Lip muttered angrily.
Sleko shot them a thunderous look that stopped their mumbles mid-grumble. “Prime whore. Mine. You care for ship.”
Pecking order established, the two merely hissed and returned to their large glasses of something that looked like warm piss. It smelled worse.
Susa forced herself to nibble at the cookies and take small sips of the whiskey. She wanted to draw the meal out as long as possible.
As she choked down another bite, the lights went off. Klaxons blared loudly. The darkened room was lit only by eerie flashing red lights until the emergency back-up system came on. Even then, the lighting was of a lower level.
The image of a hopping up and down Geep in what looked to be the engine room appeared in Susa’s mind. She swore she heard the creature geeping happily. The little guy had effectively scuttled the ship. They were on auxiliary power with minimal environmental systems and maybe some impulse engines. If the Dornians were inept and couldn’t fix whatever her new best buddy Geep had broken, they’d have to put the ship into the closest space dock to get someone to fix the craft.
Space dock meant a chance to escape.
Susa picked up the whiskey and mentally toasted Geep.
Geep sent images of Susa bringing the box of cookies with her when Sleko took her back to her cabin.
It was the least she could do for her little hero. Freedom looked to be a lot closer now, and it tasted like chocolate cookies and felt like little licks from a brave, ingenious ball of fluff.
Susa sat on the bed with the bed’s sole blanket wrapped around her nearly naked body. Geep cuddled next to her, noisily eating cookies. The little guy—Susa had settled on the male gender since he felt that way to her—put off a lot of heat and helped take off the chill from the under-performing environmental system. At least, the atmosphere was still supportive of life. For now.
Geep stopped eating. Geep. He sent her a mental image of a space dock orbiting a planet and then the image of a map of the solar system.
After Sleko had shoved her in the room and departed, the little guy had arrived to keep her company. He shared images of what he’d seen and heard.
“So, they’re not going to dock to get the ship fixed?”
Mrrf. The sound could’ve meant yes or no. Blinking his large purple eyes, he sent her images of Sleko and the others docking and then stealing a new vehicle.
“That makes sense,” she whispered. “They stole this one.”
Geep snuggled under the blanket and brushed up against the bondage belt which was still locked about her waist.
“What are you doing under there?” His fur tickled her bare skin.
He popped out and from his mouth dangled the lock which had made the belt impossible for her to take off.
It seemed Geep had no trouble understanding her whether her words were spoken aloud or thought. He probably took the words and the images of what they meant directly from her mind. He didn’t seem to have ears. Maybe he sensed noise using his body fur. His whole body could be a sensory receptor.
“You took off the lock? How?” She stroked the top of his head. He sent an image of him biting off the lock. “Those are so
me strong teeth, Geep.”
Geep dropped the lock, then opened his mouth in a wide grin. Yep, there were lots of sharp teeth, a double row of them, and some that looked like fangs. He snatched up the lock and his fangs leaked a clear fluid. The metal softened, and he snapped it into two pieces. Happy humming sounds and then a sound like a purr made her laugh.
“You can melt metal? Do you eat metal also?”
Geep responded by streaming images of him scrounging for food on the P85 freight docks. He was a regular little eating machine, and seemed to need a lot of fuel—but no metal.
Running her fingers through his tangled, dusty-colored fur, she asked, “How did you get on this ship?”
Geep telepathed images of him sneaking onboard the Dornian craft through an open hatch when Sleko and his brothers weren’t looking. He’d then searched for new things to eat. The little creature had gotten trapped when the Dornians re-boarded and shut the craft’s hatch. He hadn’t planned on taking a trip.
After the ship had taken off, Geep had hidden in the air and maintenance ducts and eventually discovered her and food.
He climbed up her arm, then snuggled on her shoulder and purred his contentment.
“You realized you could connect with me telepathically,” she said. He might’ve connected with her empathically at first. By touching her mind, Geep may have awakened a latent telepathic ability in her, because she was finding it easier to communicate with him.
Geep. Images of her fears appeared, followed by his determination to help her escape the Dornians.
If Geep succeeded in helping her get away, the very least Susa could do was help him go home or, at the very least, find him a home with lots of good food.
She gave him a nuzzle. “Once we get away from the Dornians, we’ll visit my cousin Borac. He lives on a space station. Is that all right with you?”
Geep sent happy images of himself scurrying about a space station and chomping on garbage—and piles of cookies.
Susa giggled. The little guy lived to eat.
Geep nudged her and sent an image of the two of them resting on the bed with him guarding her while she slept.
“Thank you.” She petted his thick fur. “In case I forget to mention it later, I appreciate all your efforts to get us away from Sleko and his brothers. You are my hero.”
Susa curled up on her side. Geep settled near her shoulder. His little body continuing to warm her. She really wished she had her clothes, in case they did get away. But she’d escape naked if she had to.
Eventually, Geep’s purring lulled her to sleep. She drifted off secure in the knowledge her little protector would alert her if Sleko or his brothers approached the cabin.
Chapter 7
Twenty-four standard hours post-kidnapping, P85 fighter craft
While Dobrek took a battle nap, Damon maneuvered the sleek little fighter craft into a track-and-tail maneuver as the Dornians entered Obam space.
An alert sounded, startling Damon. The Dornian ship’s status had deviated from the predicted route to the DOR 991 gate. Highlighting the Dornians’ current position on the monitor, he checked to see what had changed.
“What the fuck?” According to the tracking signals and the computer’s calculations, the Dornian ship had abruptly dropped out of hyper-speed and now traveled at a speed indicating the craft operated on impulse engines only. They’d also altered their heading. The Dornians’ ship was limping toward the only space dock in the Obam solar system, the one in orbit around the most-populated planet, Obam II.
Keying in Wulf Caradoc’s com-code, he connected. “Caradoc. This is Damon Martin. The Dornians look as if they had a power loss. They’re heading for the Obam II orbiting space dock.”
“Roger that. We have them on our long-range screens. The battle cruisers we diverted are still too far out and don’t have the speed to make it in time to back you up. I pulled Starship Leonidas from the blockade on the Andromeda gates. Captain Nowicki is heading at top speed to Obam II. It will be close, but he has a better chance to get there and prevent the Dornians from leaving Obam space.”
Dobrek slipped silently into the control room and settled into the co-pilot’s seat. He placed a mug of coffee for Damon on the console.
Damon acknowledged Dobrek’s presence with a nod as he responded to Caradoc. “That’s good to hear. I estimate we’re only about thirty standard minutes from Obam II space dock. This might be our best chance to get Susa back. Whatever’s wrong with the Dornian craft, my gut says they’ll just steal a new ship. Nowicki and his people will not make it in time if they do that.”
“Agreed. The Dornians won’t hang around to fix a stolen ship,” Caradoc snarled. “Melina just contacted the Obam space dock commander. He understands the situation is fluid and potentially dangerous. He’s stated his people won’t impede your attempt to rescue Susa and will do what they can to slow down the Dornians while their ship is in the dock. But they refuse to assist in the actual rescue of Susa and won’t take offensive action to prevent any ship from leaving their dock.”
“Fucking cowards,” spat Damon.
Dobrek grunted his agreement.
“Yes, you and I see it that way, but the Obam are pacifists. Their reaction isn’t unexpected,” Caradoc said. “Plus, they don’t have the resources or training to take on one Dornian, let alone three or more. You’ll be on your own until Captain Nowicki gets there.”
Damon knew all about pacifists—he was raised as one. Even pacifists should act to rescue a woman taken against her will. “We’ll do what we need to do.”
And if that meant killing some Dornians, he had no problem with that.
“As soon as the Leonidas hits Obam space, Nowicki will send a fighter craft to the space dock,” Caradoc said.
But both he and Caradoc knew Alliance help would arrive too late to be in on the actual rescue.
“Dobrek and I will handle it,” Damon said. “Can you get us permission to dock so we can maintain com-silence on approach to the space dock?”
“Already done. The space dock commander saw the wisdom of keeping you and the Dornians, who’ve already requested docking permission for emergency repairs, away from the regular dock traffic.” Caradoc chuckled. “He assigned you side-by-side berths with at least ten empty berths between you and the next ship.”
“Perfect.” And the least the Obam dock commander could do. “Undoubtedly, the Dornians will try to steal Dobrek’s nifty little ship. I guarantee they won’t like the results when they do.” Damon smiled in anticipation of a bloody fight. He often missed his days of travelling around the outer galactic rim, looking for new challenges and the opportunity to kick ass. “We’ll keep you updated.”
When Damon called next, he prayed he could report Susa was safe and unharmed. But he had to admit, even if only to himself, the Dornians were known to kill hostages when confronted.
“Good luck. May the One grant you an easy victory.” Caradoc paused. “If—” The man’s breath hitched followed by a broken snarl. “If they’ve harmed Susa in any way and you happen to leave any of them alive, I want the apayebote.”
“Understood.” Damon cut the transmission, then muttered, “But don’t count on it.”
The only good Dornian, was a dead Dornian. It was a rule he’d learned to live by in his rabble-rousing youth—and one that had also proven valuable once he and Borac had taken over their own jump station.
Damon didn’t plan on leaving a single one of the Dornians alive. Caradoc and the Alliance could have the bodies.
“So, we’re going to get to have all the fun.” Dobrek’s voice was still husky from sleep.
Damon rubbed a hand over his face. “This whole situation was a clusterfuck waiting to happen from the time Susa decided to travel to the jump station alone.”
“Hey, who knew she’d attract the attention of a libidinous ass who’d hire mercenaries to grab her? Any other time she would’ve been safe on Vanni’s ship.” Dobrek clapped Damon on the shoulder. �
�Take a break while you can. I’ll take us into the space dock. Has Obam Dock Control sent the berth number yet?”
“It’s locked into the nav system. We’re on radio silence. Just take us in.” Damon stood and stretched, then picked up the coffee Dobrek had provided. “I’ll inhale this caffeine and a protein snack, and then check over my weapons before I take a quick battle nap. Want anything before I do?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Dobrek adjusted the speed of the craft and double-checked the course for the Obam dock berth. “When we dock, I’ll activate the ship’s anti-boarding security. While they try to break through my security upgrades, we can take them by surprise. Then we can board their ship, eliminate anyone left on it, and get your girl back.”
“Exactly my plan.” As Damon headed for the galley, he added, “She’s not my girl.”
Dobrek’s snort sounded a lot like a stifled laugh.
As Damon rummaged through his pack for a protein bar, he fumed over Dobrek’s wording.
Get your girl back. Dobrek hadn’t meant anything specific by the words, but the emotions they sparked served to rip the scab off a barely healed wound. His girl. He’d thought Bria was his girl, but he’d been wrong. After she’d gone to Cejuru Prime with Iolyn Caradoc, Damon brooded for a long time, drank a lot of Valerian whiskey, and finally reached the decision to keep all women, especially Prime women, at arm’s length. Since then, he’d only hooked up with an occasional woman for a night or two of sex.
Scratching an itch was one thing. Love was something else and hurt too fucking much.
Chapter 8
Dornian ship, Obam II orbiting space dock
“Geep. Mrrf. Geep. Mrrf. Mrrf.”
The urgent, breathless little sounds startled Susa awake. Her pulse pounded rapidly in her ears as she sat up.
“What?” She looked around and listened for what might’ve upset Geep, but found nothing.
Prime Target Page 8