Marauder Fenrir: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (Mating Wars) (2 page)

“
O
’Shea
!” Manta says in a level voice. “Take her to the crew’s quarters and restrain her.”

“Yes, Captain!” O’Shea says, undoing his harness. He pushes off his seat and floats toward me.

I sit still with my arms crossed defiantly, and O’Shea grabs my shoulder and whispers. “It’s war, Fiona, we can’t disobey orders. Tell him you’ll do what he says and he might–”

I tear off my harness. “I refuse the order! Do what you must, O’Shea.”

He nods and pulls me toward the door heading to the crews’ quarters. The cockpit and the turret controls cover most of the ship, and the cramped crews’ quarters barely have enough space for three people to sleep, so we do it in shifts. Beyond the crews’ quarters is an airlock, but it’s small and used only for exiting into vacuum to do emergency repairs.

There’s no brig of any kind, so the crew’s quarters is their only option to confine me. It’s better than getting thrown out of the airlock, at least.

O’Shea opens the door to the crew’s quarters, and starts to shove me to move faster.

“Fire! Airman!” I hear Manta shout, and then then the ship jostles as the turret fires its big railguns at the civilian shuttle.

In the quiet vacuum of space, I can’t hear the civilian ship explode, or even feel the vibrations as they succumb to horrible deaths, but I know they’re gone.

I resist O’Shea as he manhandles me into the crews’ quarters, and shout back into the cockpit. “You’re all fucking killers! War doesn’t justify murder, you–”

O’Shea shoves me through into the crews’ quarters.

I start fighting back, hitting him, but he gut punches me. Before I can even gasp for breath, he has shoved me into an equipment bag. He pokes at me, forcing me into a fetal position before he fastens the zipper on the top of the bag.

When he closes the bag, it blocks out nearly all the light, and then I hear the sound of a lock and then chains rattling.

Moments later, the door to the cockpit slams shut, and I’m trapped in near darkness.

I hear nothing but my own heavy panicked breathing and cursing, and the sound of my body rustling against the confines of the bag. When I stop moving, the eerie quiet echoes in my head.

I kick and shake, but the bag seems to be chained to a handrail. I try to pry open the top of the bag, but it won’t budge. At least there’s air coming through the material. I’ll get to breathe a while longer before they vent me out of the airlock.

I keep struggling against the bag. I know it’s futile, but I’m not the kind of woman who just gives up. Even if I get out of the bag, then what am I going to do? The gunship has no shuttle, and no one will take my side in this disagreement. They’ll just restrain me again, but at least I’ll get a chance to take a clean shot at Manta. Preferably it will be a shot to his balls.

I continue shaking, but then I hear something. It’s not the door to the turret room and cockpit. It’s the airlock.

Could someone from the civilian ship have escaped undetected? But how would they have had time to suit up,
and
have the skill to break into our ship’s airlock? Putting myself in their shoes, why the hell would they walk right into the lion’s den rather than turn tail and bolt?

The hissing stops, and I hear the bolts of the door squeak open.

I shake and scream. Whoever has broken in, if they’re an enemy of Manta, I’m going to get their attention and help them. It’s my only chance to get out of here.

I feel something pull on the bag, and I hear the chains rattle. Light floods in from above, and I look up to see the last thing I expected.

An alien’s face.

It furrows its brows at me, and despite its purple skin, the expression looks almost human. And it’s definitely a
he
. He has high cheekbones and strong brows. His face is all hard, confident, and angular planes, and his expression breaks into what almost looks like a smirk as he peers down at me. His expression oozes confidence, but there’s also a hint of curiosity and wonder.

Then it speaks. In English. The accent is unlike anything I’ve heard before...the vowels are too long and the consonants are clipped.

“Press the bag out away from your body,” he says.

I obey. Something in his voice makes me feel compelled to follow his orders.

As soon as I push the bag out, something hits it, and light floods through just below my hands. I hear the bag ripping, and soon I see a sharp blade tearing through the bag.

The bag breaks open and strong hands grab hold of me. I can’t even get a good look at him before he spins me around and shoves me, face forward, into the wall. He presses a muscular arm into my back and head, not to inflict any pain or damage, but hard enough that I can’t turn my head to look back at him.

“You’re from the invading fleet?” I ask. “How could you have arrived so much--?”

“Quiet! Female!” he rasps. “
I
ask the questions.”

I struggle against him, but he pushes me more forcefully into the wall. “How many human males are through that door?”

“Four,” I say. “I’ll help you–.”

He flips me around, and I finally get a good look at him.

He tilts his head at me, and I see that not only is his face purple, but he has bear-like ears on top of his head. Aside from the ears and purple skin, he looks...mostly human. But I feel my heart racing as I look down the length of his body, which is covered by some kind of skin-tight armor. It’s teal in color, and it hugs his eight-pack abs and all his other bulging muscles, leaving little to the imagination. The crotch armor has a huge bulge, and my own eyes bulge at that sight, but then I realize it must be purely decorative–exaggerating his masculine features–as there’s no way his cock could actually be that large.

His ears pull back, and his head tilts. His nostrils flare, and he invades way too far into my personal bubble when he shoves his nose right up next to my face and inhales. He sniffs further and further down my body, and I feel...uncomfortable? I should be creeped out, but instead I feel my heart racing, and I can’t keep my eyes from admiring his chiseled body and beautiful face.

“Five men to one breeding female?” he asks. “Cygnus and Aegus spoke highly of the fertility of human females –so I can only assume your men are weak and infertile.”

“Excuse me?” I snort. “A
breeding female
? I don’t know what kind of fucked up society you come from, but I am
not
just for breeding.”

He yanks me close into his body and sniffs deeply into the crook between my neck and shoulder. “Then why would you have this scent? You smell like strong breeding stock, you–”

“Listen,” I interrupt him. “There are four assholes on the other side of the door. Are you going to do something about them, or do you just want to sniff at me and creep me out?”

“My faction wants to destroy all humans,” he says, “but I’ve been sent here to kill one of my own kind. Where can I find Great Brother Cygnus? Is he still on the red planet?”

Great Brother Cygnus. An alien from the invading fleet who–along with his brother–purportedly arrived ahead of the others and started some kind of cult on Mars. I had dismissed this story about the brothers as rumors, but standing here hearing about it from a real live alien who is sniffing my neck, I start to believe the rumors might be true.

My first instinct is to lie, but his jade green eyes peer deep into mine, and I’m worried he’ll snap my neck if he decides I’m not telling the truth or can’t be useful to his cause.

“The rumors say he’s still there,” I say. “We don’t have hard intel to confirm it, though.”

He lets go of me and pulls himself along the handrails toward the door leading to the turret room.

“Wait,” I say. “What are you going to do? I thought you were only here to kill Cygnus? Take me back onto your ship, and I’ll help you get to Mars.”

He looks back at me. “My ship is gone. I am permitted to kill any human I need to in order to reach my target. Can you pilot the ship?”

His tone makes me think that if my answer is “no,” he might just kill me on the spot.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s operated using manual controls, and I–.”

“Are any of the males on the other side of this door critical to operating the ship?”

I owe these assholes nothing. And they just destroyed a ship carrying civilians...including women and children. I’m not the judge and jury, but they should be tried according to Imperial law.

“They’re all critical,” I lie. “It takes all of us to–.--”

“You’re lying,” he snarls. “You must be emotionally attached to these men who have attempted and failed to impregnate you. And even after they imprison you like this? You are softer and weaker than they are! I will show them no mercy!”

I
turn away
from the woman in disgust. Her scent still lingers in my nose, and its powerful effect is still tingling in my head. I understand now how Aegus and Cygnus were deceived and trapped by such weakness, but I’m stronger than them. I have a mission to carry out, and a mountain of shame debt to clear away.

I check the door, and find that it’s unlocked. I jerk it open and pull myself through into the cockpit.

I grasp the blade in my hand, and the moment I turn the corner I see the four of them. They are gathered around the captain’s chair at the far end of the room. None of them appear to be armed.

I hit the wall, and while they are still staring at me with their mouths hung open in shock, I kick off the wall and launch myself straight at them.

Two of the men scatter, but two stand still in disbelief.

I have just seconds before impact, but I focus on the two who scattered. One has grabbed a gun, and the other is pulling a bladed weapon from racks on the wall.

The ones who stood still are weaklings, but killing them first will cost me but a moment.

I raise the blade in my hand and will my other hand to form a sharp point. I slash the blade and cut open the first man’s neck, while my hand pierces straight through the other man’s forehead. When I feel the pointed biosuit penetrate into the center of his skull, I will it to flare out in all directions, mincing his brain to mush.

I feel heat trying to penetrate the back of my armor–it must be from a laser-based weapon–but my armor reflects and converts the beam to harmless light.

I fling the bloodied blade at one of the other men approaching me with an axe, but he blocks the blade in mid-flight with his own weapon. It clinks against his axe and floats uselessly away through the cockpit.

The heat on my back fades away, and I feel fingers wrapping around my neck.

I will the armor on my back to transform into a lance, and I shove it through the attacker’s gut. I hear him gag, and the warm wetness of his blood splatters across my neck.

“I’m Captain Manta!” the axe-wielding man shouts. “We can negotiate! I speak for the Empire!”

“Tell me,” I say, feeling the perverse urge to torment my prey before I kill him. “How a man who cannot even impregnate such a fertile breeding female as the woman you have imprisoned in the crews’ quarters can consider himself worthy of being called captain?”

And then I smell her scent filling the room, and I see Manta’s eyes widen.

The clothes on his arm burn away, and his skin melts down to the bone.

“You fucker!” the female shrieks behind me.

I will my armor to snap back. It forms a long tendril that slaps the gun out of the female’s hand.

It reaches back around and coils itself around her waist. I hold her in place with the tendril, as she has shame-debted me for interfering in business between males.

“You fucking bitch!” Manta screams, clutching the gaping wound on his shoulder,as blood seeps out forming shimmering spheres.

I’m worried this so-called leader will bleed out and die before I can interrogate him, so I reach out with a new tendril and grab the laser from his grasp.

I place it into my hand. Checking the weapon, I see it has a knob, and I turn it to what looks to be the lowest setting.

“I will cauterize the wound,” I say, “and then you’ll tell me everything you know about Great Brother Cygnus.”

I aim the gun at the wound. “Move your hand away from it!”

He obeys, and I pull the trigger.

His entire arm melts away, and he grunts and wails in agony. The arm floats through the cockpit.

“Ah,” I say, looking down at the knob with furrowed brows. “I seem to have set the weapon to maximum power. My mistake.”

The laser cauterized the wound on both ends, and there’s no longer any more new blood floating up into the air from his wound.

Manta twitches violently, and I see thick, black bile beginning to seep out of his mouth.

“Female!” I say. “Is he really so weak?
This
killed him?”

“You melted off his fucking arm! Of course you killed him!”

“You shot him first,” I remind her, releasing the tendril from the gun and turning to face her.

“I was mad at him! He had just brutally murdered a bunch of innocent women and children! I was just giving him a little burn to punish him.”

“So you desire revenge,” I say, “but yet you are too cowardly to fully act on your convictions?”

Her skin flushes red, and she kicks herself off the wall, floating in the direction of the pilot’s seat. “Out of my way!” she lashes out at me.

I move aside, and she stops herself when she reaches the pilot’s seat. She presses some buttons on the control panel, and I hear the hiss of air leaking out.

“You’ll kill us both,” I say.

“I’m venting out all the blood,” she says in a neutral voice, pointing at the man whose throat I slit.

The blood starts to float up toward a vent, and I switch the knob on the laser to the low setting. I’m sure I turned it in the right direction this time.

I burn the severed skin to cut off the blood flow.

She shuts off the vent. “We just lost a lot of oxygen from that,” she says, scowling at me.

I lick my lips absentmindedly as I watch her. She’s bent over the seat so she can reach the buttons, and her butt is large and shapely. Her anger accentuates her soft features, and even her smell becomes sweeter.

“I minimized the blood as best I could,” I say, “but your interference made things difficult.”

She straps herself into the seat and hits a switch, causing the engine to rumble.

The acceleration throws me back. I feel as if I’m falling, and I slam back first into the tail end of the ship. I’ve set my armor to low consumption mode. This setting fails to brace me against any non-lethal damage, so the air is knocked out of my lungs.

Just as I begin to gasp for breath, she cuts power to the engines, and I float back into the center of the room.

“You arrogant bastard,” she says, her eyes narrowed at me in fury.

I catch myself smiling at her outburst, and force myself to look away from her. I force a neutral expression on my face and hope that she didn’t see me smiling at her.