Tamed By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,10
and it shows.
M’Kal has a very hands-off policy to what happens planetside and a variety of enterprises have set up shop across this world. But that means that in addition to many legitimate businesses, a vast number of gray area businesses that straddle the line have set up shop. In the city of K’Patel, that means the Star Crushers have entrenched themselves.
They’re a mercenary unit known for their savagery. Started by humans over a hundred years ago, they purposely chose the neutral planets of the League to get away from onerous IHC regulations. They hired from all sapient races, and they’ve cultivated a reputation of working for the highest bidder on any side of the issue. In this city, they run the show. People are afraid of any blowback, and they prefer to ignore the fact that their city streets are teeming with hardened mercenaries.
Finally exhausted by my attempts at extracting information, I decide to focus on a more personal situation. I choose my words carefully, clear my throat, and then glance at Thrase.
“Did I upset you?” I ask her.
I definitely haven’t chosen the right timing, as the shouts from all the vendors drown out my voice. I’m forced to repeat myself, and this time I raise my voice so she can hear me.
“Are you upset with something?” I ask, squeezing myself past a group of mean-looking Vakutan. One of them has a scar while the other has some kind of cybernetic prosthetic hand. They look like stereotypical hired muscle, and so I lead us away from them.
Now far from the Vakutan, I glance at Thrase, but she doesn’t even bother with returning my gaze. She just keeps on walking straight ahead, her eyes somewhere in the distance. At first, I think she’s eyeing a stall with a lot of antique books propped up on a wooden plank, a human vendor perched on a stool inside the shop, but I quickly realize she’s making a conscious effort not to acknowledge me.
“Not really,” she finally says after almost ten seconds. Shrugging, she tilts her chin toward an alley to our left, and we make our way there, moving away from the chaos of dozens upon dozens of vendors shouting about their discounted wares. “Why would I be upset?”
“I don’t know,” I say, slightly upset to feel this clueless about things. There’s nothing more annoying than facing an equation and having no idea on how to solve it. Usually, a good textbook helps, but not when dealing with human females. Women should definitely come with a manual. They might have less moving parts than a fusion reactor, but they sure as hell are harder to understand. “Maybe it’s about us kissing. Are you upset about that?”
“We didn’t kiss,” she says, and this time she looks back at me over her shoulder. There’s a certain tightness around her lips, but I can’t read her expression. Thrase has become an enigma. “Besides, there’s nothing to it. Our hormones were doing their job. That’s all there is to it. It’s just a chemical reaction honed over millions of years of evolution. There’s nothing to be upset about.”
“You are correct.” Pursing my lips, I decide not to debate it. It’s not like I can tell her she’s wrong because she most definitely isn’t. Thing is, I don’t think I agree with her limited assessment of what happened.
Whatever is between us might be rooted in some evolutionary chemical reaction, but it isn’t something you can merely shrug off. The pull of a jalshagar is irresistible. Except, of course, she might not be my jalshagar. As much as I suspect that to be the case, this cold behavior of hers has me second-guessing my hypothesis. If only we had kissed, I would know for sure what’s going on here.
We spend the next couple of minutes ambling through a maze of alleyways, and we do it in complete silence. In the distance, the harbor bell rings again, its sound a reminder of our mission here. When the ringing stops, though, the silence between us quickly returns.
It’s maddening.
It feels like there’s an itch on my mind, and it’s one I can’t quite scratch. Besides, it doesn’t help that there doesn’t seem to be anything irregular about these city streets. We came in here looking for clues, but it seems likely we’ll return to the Queen empty handed.
“You have to wonder why Kintar thought we’d need him down here,” I say, an attempt at dispelling the silence between us. “The muscle-head