Tamed By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,48

sets a pot of water to boiling.

“An excellent choice, Thrase…”

We both react when the comms blaze to life overhead.

“Dr. Mal, we have a situation.”

Mal’s face twists into an annoyed sneer.

“I gave explicit word that I was not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening.”

“I am aware, Doctor, but the Kilgari has managed to escape.”

“What? You imbeciles. Can’t you even recapture an unarmed two-dicked alien deviant?”

The tone of the voice emanating over the comms takes on a harsher edge.

“He’s no longer unarmed, sir. He managed to gain access to the armory. The Kilgari has already killed a dozen of my men, and one of the survivors says he’s hell bent on finding the Thrase woman.”

My eyes go wide, and I struggle to restrain a smile from being born on my lips. Dr. Mal slams his fist down on the counter so hard the wine bottle rattles.

“Recapture him if you can, Captain Soandzo. If not, put an end to his little tirade.”

“Copy that, sir. Recommend you remain in quarters until such time as we have dealt with the hostile.”

Dr. Mal puts his hands on his hips and glares up at the comm, though it’s hardly as if the captain can see him.

“Can you do what you claim, though?”

A dark chuckle and then.

“We’re the Star Crushers.”

With that the communication ends. Dr. Mal turns back to me and cocks a pencil-thin eyebrow.

“It seems you were a bit overzealous in your torture of the Kilgari captive, Thrase. He will not relent until he gets his hands on you.”

Ah, Dr. Mal, you’re right in so many ways but wrong in so many others.

“But we’re safe here, of course?”

“Of course.” Dr. Mal picks up his lanyard and dangles it like a trophy. “Once the ship went on alert, the lift system went into security lockdown. Without one of these, the Kilgari won’t be able to move beyond the deck where he’s currently raising chaos.”

“Spectacular.” I pick up the wine bottle, holding the neck in my hand.

“The opener is over there, in that drawer,” he says, indicating the correct spot.

“Not going to be an issue.”

With that I bust the wine bottle over his head. Dr. Mal’s eyes go wide, and a trail of blood runs down his forehead. Then he makes the most awful, guttural scream.

Damn it, I was hoping that would knock him out. Balling up my fist, I strike him in the temple as I’ve seen the Kilgari do in hand-to-hand combat. Eureka, he goes down, folding like a blanket. Then the pain shoots through my knuckles and I cradle my injured hand to my chest.

I give my fingers an experimental flex. Nothing seems to be broken, but it hurts like the dickens. Snatching up the lanyard off the counter, I rush toward the door and out into the hallway.

After activating the lift, I set it to take me to deck eight where the lab imprisoning Num is located. On my way down, the ship goes to full alert, amber colored lights flashing on the walls of the lift car.

“Attention, all hands.” Captain Soandzo’s voice is tinged with urgency, unlike before. “Report to battle stations. We are under attack by two enemy ships.”

The Ancestral Queen, splendid. Solair is here for the rescue—

Wait a moment, did he say two ships? Never mind, I need to put my plan in motion. I exit the lift on deck eight as the whole ship shudders violently and the lights flicker. I’m tossed to the deck plating, landing hard on my already injured hand, but I scramble back up in an instant.

Zander could probably use backup, and I can utilize the little creature’s unique abilities to our advantage.

Assuming the ship doesn’t blow apart first.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zander

Stepping around the bend in the corridor, amber lights flashing their omnipresent warning of danger, I open fire on the group of Star Crushers waiting outside the lift. One goes down, dissolved into goo by the weak force pistol, while two others have a more painful demise of getting shot in the throat and head, respectively, thanks to my spread shot rifle.

The fourth man goes to draw his weapon, but I shake my head.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, sir.”

He freezes and then stares at his dead colleagues. His hands go in the air instead of reaching for his weapon or a comm.

“Smart man.” I gesture at the gold slashes on his sleeve. “You’re a lieutenant in the Star Crushers, yes?”

“Prepare to die for your crimes.”

“Hey!” he says. “What crimes?”

“You’re a racist human who wants every alien