Tamed By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,51

ally are scattered across the cosmos?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Thrase

Flattening myself against the corridor wall, I wait until the half-dozen Star Crushers race past in formation, their grim faces drawn into somber grimaces. From time to time the ship rocks as it endures weapons fire from the Ancestral Queen and her mysterious ally, which I take as a good omen. As long as the battle continues, my friends are still alive.

Somewhere on this ship, Zander is raising hell, which also is cause for elation. Now that he has his potent gear back, I almost pity the Star Crushers and their ilk.

Almost.

Using the lanyard, I gain access to the lab chamber where Num is being held captive. Upon sight of the miserable, gray and drooping butterfly-like insectoid creature, I feel a great swell of pity. He’s—I’m assuming it’s male, but I don’t actually know—on his last legs. Just another crime to the ever-expanding list perpetrated by Dr. Mal and his Earth First cronies.

But I’m going to save him. And I hope, in return, he’s willing to save me.

Dr. Mal used a multi phasic transfer array to draw energy from Num’s partially incorporeal body, rending him fully solid and basically administering a death sentence. That Dr. Mal doesn’t care his test subject will likely die is more proof of what a devil the man really is.

“Hang on, little guy.” I grab the wheeled emitter array and roll it over to the glass cube forming Num’s cage. It’s a strange looking apparatus, with a flexible armature attached to the base bearing a large metal cone with dozens of prismatic crystals arranged in a careful but chaotic pattern.

The energy should flow right through the glass, so I don’t need to take Num out of his cage. That’s good because I think just moving him at all might be too traumatic to survive. Struggling with the heavy power cable, I grunt and sweat my way across the lab floor until I manage to jam it into place.

Now that I’m fed right into the ship’s main power, it should be a simple matter of turning the device on. I glance down at Num one last time and then don a pair of dark safety goggles and flip the switch.

The energy matrix is powerful enough to produce a visual display, one so bright I would be blinded if not for the goggles. Num’s mouthparts open in a harsh screech, and I wince at the sound. I had not expected him to be in pain as part of the process.

I almost turn the machine off, prompted by his squeals of agony, but I stop myself when I realize it’s working. Already color is returning to his wings, shimmering pinks and purples in an ever-shifting chaotic miasma. He seems to be getting stronger, too, his antennae drooping less and less with each passing second.

If only he would stop screaming. It grows louder by the moment. Even though I know what I’m doing is saving his life, it still makes me cringe on the inside.

“Hang in there, Num. We’re almost there.”

Soon I have to throw my arm over my face because the pyrotechnic display grows so bright even the polarized lenses of my safety goggles are insufficient to protect my eyesight. It grows warmer by a dozen degrees, and I can see my bones flashing through my skin like an x ray.

The emitter array shorts out, sending a shower of sparks to burn holes right through my lab coat. Then the glass cage explodes, and everything in the room goes dark, including the overhead lights.

Cautiously, I pull my arm away from my face and see a faint glow through the goggles. Hooking my finger into the strap, I yank them down around my neck and then my mouth falls open in wonder at the beautiful sight before me. Num is no longer a gray, droopy insectoid, but a luminous being composed equally of energy and matter. His color pattern is ever shifting, but always remains in a spectrum of the shorter wavelengths of energy.

“Num? Are you all right?”

The critter flashes several times, long pulses interrupted by shorter ones. Again I am struck with wonder because I recognize the pattern as a form of language.

It’s Morse code. I have severely underestimated his intelligence, it seems. He’s flashing signals that I can interpret.

Am well. We leave.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I go to the door to press the control panel keypad and open it, but Num flies right at it—and melts a hole