Tamed By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,34

we pay very, very well—the Kreetu don’t care what we think of them personally.”

The man stands up and straightens his sharply tailored gray suit. I notice his tie is blue and green, echoing much of the décor in this office.

“But I’m being rude.” He offers a slight bow. “Dr. Jerson Mal, at your service.”

“Mal…” I narrow my gaze. “The same Dr. Mal who was thrown out of the Angstrom Institute for unethical experiments?”

Mal chuckles and turns away from me to gaze out the massive picture window behind his desk.

“A bunch of small-minded fools.” He turns back to me and grins. “You have a lovely mind, Thrase. And I do so love women for their minds.”

I don’t laugh at his double entendre, though I don’t think he expected me to.

“You’re going to be my lab rat, Thrase. That much is written in stone. The only question is… how much will you make me hurt you before we begin cutting into your brain? Hmm? Perhaps if you start by telling me where the Kilgari’s blasted Ancestral Queen is docked, I might be merciful.”

I return his glare. And then it dawns on me.

There is a way I can still continue to fight.

I think back to everything I’ve read in school and on my own from humanity’s history.

Humans have been plagued with racism of one sort or another for as long as we’ve been around. And in many ways, the racism we’ve borne toward others in our history has always been a reflection of our greatest fears.

Couple that with what I know from my psychology studies in manipulating people who are inherently afraid and I think I have a way to convince Dr. Mal I’m on his side.

“You’ll have to make me a better offer than that if you want me to give up the ship,” I say, looking him in the eyes.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. I don’t care what happens to the goldies one way or another, but freedom from torture is hardly a carrot to dangle before this pony if you want her to run.”

“The goldies?” He arches an eyebrow. “But they are your saviors, and you’ve acted as their spy.”

“Because our interests coincided, and that is the only reason. Project Blue Dawn has made my life miserable, so I’ll take any chance I can to put an end to that. If that means working with some aliens, well, you do what you have to sometimes.”

I snicker and lean back in the chair. Time to act like the cold-blooded scientist shrew everyone thinks I am.

“Besides, it’s not like I have to put up with lumpys and their disgusting ridged faces, or snake-faced Shorcu.”

Mal’s eyes narrow further, but I can see him making calculations in his head. I’m doing my best to pretend to be racist and I’m hoping it’s working.

“I believe perhaps I’m being told what I want to hear.”

“Do you think me that obvious? Please.”

“Maybe if you were to tell me where the Kilgari vessel has hidden herself, I might be more inclined to believe your sincerity.”

“K’Patel private air field, docking sector 817.”

He frowns and takes his seat. Picking up a comm, he makes a quick call, telling his people to confirm what I have told him. Then we wait, him drumming his fingers on his desk impatiently and me just sitting back and relaxing.

I told him the truth, but at this point Solair surely knows something has gone wrong, and will be expecting trouble. Besides, I have no intention of being tortured. My pain threshold has never been all that high, and I’d wind up singing like the proverbial canary before long.

But if I can convince Mal that I’m as bigoted and cold blooded as him, and only out for myself, he’ll bring me into the fold. My skills are not to be discounted.

Will he, though? I think he will. He will believe me because he wants to believe all humans are like him. It’s an egotistical paradox that greater men than himself have fallen prey to.

After a time, his comm flashes and he puts it up to his ear, swiveling around in his chair and speaking quietly. When he turns back around, his face is marred by a suspicious glare.

“It seems what you have told me is true enough, though we can hardly mount an assault on their vessel so long as it’s docked in a private field.”

“Have I earned your trust?”

“No.” He stands up and straightens his suit. “But you have earned yourself a chance. I’m putting you