Pirate: Space Gypsy Chronicles, #1 (10 page)

“What was this place?” Emma wondered out loud. “And how did it survive?”

He could only surmise the parts that had collapsed around the chamber kept it protected, but he couldn’t have said why the walls glowed. Was it a property of the rock itself? An organism exuding a phosphorescent light? Alien technology that had survived the ravages of time? Damn, if that were the case, and he could find it, he’d make a fortune.

As he ran his arm over the walls, and even the floor in the room, the various sensors embedded in the material feeding the information to Annabelle, Emma wandered around, tracing her gloved fingers over the surface.

“Is it me or is it warm?” she queried.

“It is. You can touch it if you like.”

He caught the roll of her eyes. “Duh. I thought I already was.”

“I mean really touch it. Temperature readings show you won’t freeze. I see no signs of biological entities or bacteria on the walls. Which means—”

“I can touch an alien ruin!” Her eyes widened even as her lips pursed. “I don’t know if I want to.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” he taunted.

“I am scared and rightly so. I don’t see you ripping off your suit and rushing to touch it.”

“Again with the suspicions.” His turn to roll his eyes. “When are you going to realize I have no interest in harming you? Unless giving you an orgasm so intense you want to cry counts.”

“If I cry, it’s going to be because of disappointment.” A fabulous comeback that did nothing to cover her reluctance, a reluctance he could see she struggled with, given her gloved hand stroked the rock.

No trust at all. For some reason, it bothered him.

He sighed. “The things I do.” Do for what? Didn’t matter. He had no problem paving the way. He unsnapped his glove and pulled it off, the air in the room cool, but not unpleasantly so. “See? Not dangerous.” He pressed the palm of his hand against the wall, surprised at the warmth pulsing through it.

Pulsing. And then halting as the room suddenly went dark.

“Uh-oh.” He uttered the words aloud, and she caught the note of worry.

“I don’t like that tone,” she muttered.

“We need to get back to the ship.” He fitted his glove back on as his stomach drew into a tight ball, which, translated, meant get the fuck out of here.

For once, she didn’t ask why.

While the room was now dark, the opening to the outside made a lighter rectangle. The shadowy shape of her body momentarily blocked it. As he followed, the ground under his feet
moved
.

Not an earthquake kind of movement. Not the ground settling or the building shifting either. That kind of wavy and hump motion could mean only one thing.

“Run!” he yelled, because this dead planet wasn’t dead after all. It had just gone underground.

Emma thankfully wasn’t the type to argue about a life-and-death command. She cleared the doorway, and when he emerged, he saw her leaping and soaring toward the dune. Of less reassurance, the way the ground rippled behind her.

Fuck. Rafe drew his blaster as he ran toward her. He watched the humping of the soft soil and aimed.

Zap
. The laser-like bolt hit the moving dirt, exploding it into a shower of dusty sand and rock.

For a moment, nothing happened, and he wondered if he’d scared off whatever traveled beneath the surface. Hoped but wouldn’t bet on it.

Rafe pelted after Emma, who was halfway up the dune and moving well. He pushed himself, taking long leaps, catching up to her just as they reached the peak of the sandy swell. When she would have paused, he barked, “Move that ass if you want to keep it.”

He didn’t follow his own advice. He stood poised on that apex and peered back. Then kind of wished he hadn’t as he saw the numerous bulges tunneling up after him. As he turned to face the other way to begin his descent, sand exploded as something went through the hill!

A creature, serpentine in shape but possessed of pincers and hundreds of legs, hurtled into the air. It uttered a cry, the cry of a hunter.

Emma had to have heard it, and yet she said not a word, the only sound coming through her microphone that of her panting as she pushed her body to the limit.

Brave wench. But too slow. She’d never outrun the creature.

He soared from the peak of the dune, his arm stretched before him, blaster pointed.

Zap
. The bright bolt streaked and hit the thing in the back. The intense heat would have pulverized most creatures, but in this cold place, it lost much of its ferocity and only singed, even though he scored a direct hit on the icy carapace of the monstrous beast.

While he didn’t kill it, he did, however, manage to turn its attention from Emma to him.

A single white eye, lacking an iris or a lid, perused him. Ugly, but not as ugly as the row of serrated teeth, hundreds of them, in a mouth that opened ridiculously wide.

“That’s it, you ugly fucking bastard. Keep your eye on me.”

The monster began plowing in his direction, its numerous legs churning the soft sand.

With a yell, he charged toward it, gun held in front of him.

Zap
.

Splat!

Apparently, closing the distance and firing directly into the creature’s mouth proved a lot more effective. It didn’t mean he wanted to repeat the experience. One chomp from those teeth, or a squeeze by the pincers projecting on each side, and his remains would be digested and fertilizing this not-so-dead moon. Not exactly how he wanted to go.

Emma had made it off the dune and now ran flat-out for the ship. He could see the ground crackling at her feet, chunks of it heaving, as if pushed from underneath.

Knowing he had a microphone in his helmet didn’t stop him from yelling, “Annabelle! Turn on the surface weapons system. We are under attack! Prepare for emergency takeoff.”

“Attack by what, Captain? My sensors show no heat signatures but your own and the female crew member.”

“Then what the hell is that?” he hollered just as the ground before him erupted. From it shot a rather large
nothing
with a lot of teeth that he was sure would feel like something if they connected.

It opened its mouth, teeth clicking.

“Thank you for giving me a target!” He took aim and fired. The splatter of alien chunks coated him, the blue blood speckling his visor. “Did you see that?” He couldn’t resist the sarcastic retort to his computer.

“According to my readings, you just destroyed a spontaneously created icicle.”

“It’s not an icicle, you stupid computer. It’s a freaking ice monster.”

Instinct had him diving to the side just as the ground shook and heaved. He hit the hard surface in a tuck, praying he didn’t catch his suit on anything jagged. He rolled back to his feet, noting that Emma had veered away from the door, probably on account of the growing hump before the ramp.

“Grab my hand,” he yelled. She darted toward him, fingers outstretched. They connected, latched tight, and he pulled her to him as the lump before the ramp rose, the one eye staring, pincers clacking. He jumped, pushing hard with his calves and springing into the air. He arced high, but not high enough to clear the monster about to open its jaws. But its mouth wasn’t on top of its head.

A single booted foot struck the crown of the beast and propelled them in a dive toward the open hatch. If he’d jumped alone, he would have landed with nary a stumble. Burdened with a human who clung to him, his feet landed askew, and he staggered. She also wobbled, so she clung to him harder, which ended in them falling in a heap on the floor—inside his spacecraft.

“How you doing?” he couldn’t resist saying in his low, husky voice.

“Monster!” she yelled, her eyes wide as she stared at something over his shoulder.

He rolled off her and to his knees, noting he’d lost his gun during their tumble. His hand darted to the sheath at his side, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the blade would be enough.

The creature’s mouth opened wide, and it stuck its head through the door.

Squish. Flop. The top part of the predator hit the floor, dead—or at least not trying to eat them anymore.

“Access door sealed,” Annabelle’s cool tone announced. “Pressurizing the chamber.”

Something thumped the door to the outside. The ship rocked as many somethings took to pounding the outer hull.

“Dead planet my fucking ass,” he muttered. “Annabelle, get us the fuck out of here.”

“As the captain orders.”

The ship rocked and wobbled, partially because of the monsters and also because of the thrusters that engaged in a push to raise them from the surface. The vessel tilted, and the alien head rolled toward him. He stopped it with his boot. Heaving it, he carried it to a bin that was bolted to the floor. It took him but a moment to secure it inside and seal the unit shut. Better safe than sorry. He’d seen pieces a lot smaller than this one reanimate before.

He turned to find Emma on the floor, seated and in shock.

“You all right there, wench?”

She didn’t reply, shock finally stealing her voice.

The ship’s shaking evened out, but he knew they had only a moment before they had to punch through the atmosphere. No time to snap her completely out of it.

He manhandled her to a spot on the wall and hauled the harness over her head, clipping it into place. The spot beside her was for him. As soon as he’d buckled his harness, he checked the ambient temperature in the room. The ship’s heaters had cleared most of the chill enough that he could take off his helmet. The stench of the gore covering him made his nose wrinkle.

He tossed the helmet to the far side and then turned to look at Emma. She sat just as he’d left her.

“You can take the helmet off.” He told her and yet, at the same time, twisted in his harness enough to remove it from her. It joined his in the corner.

She sucked in a deep breath. Gagged. “Oh my God, what’s that smell?”

“Alien guts.”

“Alien guts?” She said it on a note of incredulity. Then giggled. Giggled hard. Giggled so hard he thought he might have to slap her.

Or he could do something more shocking to her system.

As the ship pushed through the atmosphere of Titan, he kissed her.

And, this time, she let him.

E
xhilaration
over not becoming some alien monster’s lunch meant Emma let the kiss go on for too long. Long enough that she didn’t really want it to end. Thank goodness for a bumpy takeoff and a harness that kept them in place, or she might have said to hell with her decision to not sleep with the pirate captain.

The rattle and shake of the ship as they cleared the planet was enough to snap her from the languorous stupor he’d invoked with his kiss. “So that was rather exciting.” She uttered a breathy laugh as she pulled away.

“And that was just the beginning.” Said with such sensual promise.

“You mean we’re going to find more planets with ruins and not-so-dead inhabitants? I can’t wait. Although, next time, could we maybe stick with something smaller and fluffier?”

The frown on his face was justified as she intentionally misunderstood him. “I meant—”

“Still not happening.”

“But I saved your life. That deserves something.” The lower jutting lip proved a temptation—that she resisted.

“You’re right. It does deserve something.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you.”

“And?”

“And that’s all you get.” Plus the kiss he’d already stolen in a moment of weakness. “Especially considering you should be apologizing. I wouldn’t have required saving at all if you’d properly checked that planet. It definitely wasn’t uninhabited.”

“So I noticed.”

“Totally your fault.”

“Annabelle should have—”

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on your computer. You’re the one who said to not trust them and double-check everything yourself.”

The frown drawing his brows together was becoming all too familiar. “I should have left you behind.”

At his grumble, she smiled. “Don’t be grumpy because I shot you down again.”

“I’m not grumpy. I couldn’t care less. You’re the one missing out on all the fun.”

Yes, she probably was, but fun was fleeting, and there weren’t a lot of places on this ship to hide if things went sour.

The ship leveled out, having broken free of the moon. She unbuckled and stood, wrinkling her nose at the smell wafting from her suit. Splattered alien guts smelled just as bad as road kill left in the sun.

“Is this goop dangerous?”

“Maybe.”

She glared at him.

He smiled and shrugged. “We might catch something, or we might not. I’d say the fact we’re both still breathing is a good sign. Lighten up.”

“I’ll lighten up when I know I won’t die of some alien disease.”

“You can’t live life worrying about what might happen. You could trip and fall down some stairs and die, a more likely prospect than catching some unknown indigene illness. Stop worrying so much and have fun.”

Catching his gaze as she unsnapped and shed the smelly gloves, she couldn’t help but tease. “Who says I don’t have fun?” She shimmied out of the space suit. “I have plenty of fun. I had
fun
last time I went to bed. I just don’t have fun with you.”

She blew him a kiss before she turned to the door, only to growl as he laughed from behind her. “It won’t open until we go through the decontamination process, wench.”

So much for a saucy exit.

“What happened to don’t worry you won’t suddenly explode or melt into a puddle of goo from alien guts?”

“Don’t worry doesn’t mean we don’t follow certain basic standards. You might want to close your eyes and mouth for this.”

A good warning, as the buffeting breeze and sudden pummeling shower barely left room to breathe. She looked more like a squinty-eyed alley cat when she emerged from the antechamber, the cleansing solvent not exactly warm or gentle on the skin. But as Rafe assured her, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about any flesh-eating parasites burrowing into her skin and laying thousands of eggs.

Shudder.

Their brief stop on the moon and the moment of excitement kept her going for a few days. The few recordings Annabelle had on board helped her last a few more. Emma tried to research this new life she’d gotten dragged into, but didn’t get very far because, as Annabelle explained to her, in her fairly snotty tone, this was a pirate ship, not a higher learning center.

As for questioning Rafe, that never seemed to happen. When they were together, brief meetings as they worked opposite shifts, she found herself too caught up in verbally sparring with him. Fighting her attraction to him.

It was the only thing she had to look forward to. Rafe was the only bright spot in space. Like seriously, the only exciting thing. At this point, she’d have even welcomed another heart-pounding escape from flesh-eating aliens. Anything.

The one thing she didn’t expect when she embarked on her adventure was boredom. It made her wonder if she should relent in her adamant refusal to sleep with Rafe. If he still wanted her. He’d stopped trying to cajole her a few days ago and instead had chosen to make good use of his hand—every time he went off shift.

And, yes, she knew he was masturbating because he made no bones about it. It was almost as if he did it on purpose. She’d enter the room to grab something, and there he’d be, in his bunk, the rhythmic motion of his hand bouncing the fabric of the sheet—when he wore a sheet. A few times, he’d left it folded back, and she’d blushed to see him gripping his shaft, fisting it.

It made her wet, and she couldn’t deny she wanted to join him. Wanted his mouth on her, his manhood buried in her, his hands stroking her body.

She resisted. Her reasons for abstaining hadn’t changed, but boredom sure made her rethink them.

And she wouldn’t examine the fact that, despite knowing he masturbated, she found excuses to go to the room. Found reasons to catch him in the act.

What did that say about her?

But she resisted. Barely.

Growing up, Emma had learned to put her wants to the side. It never served her any good. Living in foster homes, she had to learn to live without a lot of things. It made her appreciate the things she had. Living in foster care was also where she’d discovered that having a boyfriend you couldn’t escape made for uncomfortable living conditions when the relationship went sour. Especially since it was his parents that had taken her in. Guess who got shipped to a new home?

At times, when her frustration ran high, she wished things were different, that they were back in New Mexico where, if things went south, she could request a change en route so she wouldn’t have to see him.

Out here, in space, on a big/little ship, there was nowhere to hide. Even though she did her best to avoid him, she needed some human companionship, some connection to another living human being. Annabelle, with her snooty attitude, just wasn’t enough.

If only she had a ball like that dude on the desert island in that movie. She could draw a face on it and…yeah, no. She’d never get that desperate.

As they approached the wormhole, located somewhere in the Milky Way galaxy, she sighed. Bored. So bored. There was nothing to see, just endless darkness outside. No sunshine. No grass. Nothing.

She’d never imagined how much she would miss the simple kiss of the sun’s rays on her face or the acrid whiff of a car exhaust. She especially missed her shower. The cleansing solvent she rubbed onto her skin didn’t leave her feeling fresh, but as Rafe explained, “Water is heavy and the machines to recycle it cumbersome. Not to mention they’re both very expensive.”

“Does this mean I’ll never shower again?” She couldn’t help a mournful lilt to her query and a moue of displeasure.

“You will get to shower. Eventually. Most of the non-arid planets allow water bathing, as do some of the space stations on asteroids featuring ice cores.” Problem was he couldn’t tell her when exactly they’d get to use one.

Flopped in the captain’s seat, Emma was once again daydreaming about a juicy burger, with crispy fries—grumble—while sitting in a soothing hot bath when she heard a beep.

Since there usually weren’t any beeps when she took her turn at watch, she took note and sat up. “Annabelle, what was that?”

“Please clarify your question, crew member.”

“Are you still refusing to use my name?” Rafe could mock all he wanted, but Emma was convinced the ship hated her.

“I am not programmed for personalization,
crew member.
”

“Bitch,” she muttered.

The ship ignored her, probably a good thing, as Annabelle loved to take things literally but only when it suited her.

Beep
.

“See, there it goes again, that beeping sound. What is it?”

“It is our radar system notifying us that it pinged on an object.”

“What kind of object? Any chance it’s a galactic restaurant that serves edible food?” A girl could hope. They were, after all, in the Milky Way galaxy, less than an hour from the wormhole. Anything called Milky Way should at least have milkshakes.

Mmm… Milkshake.

“The object is most likely a stray asteroid.”

“Most likely? Shouldn’t we check?”

“We? You mean I should check.” How smug Annabelle could sound at times.

“Yes, you. Check it out and see what it is.”

There was no immediate reply, and the minutes ticked by. Rising from the seat, Emma approached the large screen and peered at it. Nothing to see but distant star specks and a black splotch for the wormhole. So disappointing.

The first time she’d seen an image of the Milky Way, it appeared so beautiful, a cloudy-hued spiraling galaxy to which the Earth belonged, but only on the periphery. As they drew closer to the center, she’d hoped to find excitement and an end to the boredom. Nope. The middle proved to be just as empty and boring as the outer reaches.

Until now. Perhaps the beep was only an asteroid. Emma didn’t care. It beat the ennui of doing nothing. Again.

“Enlarge this section.” She pressed her hand on the image of the wormhole, still a tiny speck of black in the distance. While Annabelle still didn’t reply, the screen did expand at her command, zooming in. A couple of flecks floated against the blackness of the hole. She squinted at them. At this distance, she couldn’t see what they were. Simple asteroids or something else? “Hey, Annabelle, did you find the source of the beeping?”

“Most likely a faulty reading, as a sweep of my sensors and the radar system show nothing in the vicinity.”

Nothing? “What are those then?” And before Annabelle could play dumb, Emma poked at the specks.

“I cannot visualize as you do.”

“Well, if you could, then you’d see there are three spots on the screen, and they look like they’re coming right at us.”

“Perhaps the crew member should wipe the screen. There is nothing in the quadrant you are indicating.”

“Maybe a certain computer should get her wires checked because there is definitely something there!”

“No, there isn’t.” Said with smug conviction.

“Yes, there is!” Yelled with possibly a bit of spittle.

They might have gone back and forth a little while longer if the radar hadn’t pinged again.

Beep
.
Beep
.
Beep
.
Beep
.

“What is it? Why is it beeping like that?” she asked.

“It does not compute. The radar indicates incoming missiles.” Annabelle’s usual monotone held a hint of surprise.

“Missiles from the dirt spots? Oh my God, it’s not dirt. We’re under attack!” Emma squeaked.

“Performing evasive maneuvers.” Before Emma could jump back in a seat, the ship rolled, and she rolled with it. The sudden sharp tilt sent her careening to slam into a wall. Ouch.

The warning siren finally went off as the stubborn AI finally admitted there was something out there.

A bit late, though. Emma had no sooner made it to her knees, ready to crawl to a chair, when the ship angled again. This time, she went rolling across the floor, arms and legs tucked to her chest, only to halt against something unyielding.

She pried open an eye to see big black boots and, when she let her gaze wander upwards, the irritated look of a pirate captain.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rafe barked.

“We’re under attack,” Emma squeaked, holding on to his legs as she clambered to her feet. As the ship’s deck rolled again, she clung to his shirt and kind of expected them to go flying together—where she hoped she landed on top, even if under was her preferred position when naked.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight against him as the ship dipped.

She could tell they hung upside down by the fact that her hair projected in the longest Mohawk without hairspray ever. What she couldn’t figure out was how Rafe was holding them both in place without falling to the ceiling, which was now, according to gravity, the floor, and smashing his head open like an overripe pumpkin.

Why didn’t he fall? Had her alien pirate secretly grown a tail and latched it onto something behind him? She tried to peer over his shoulder for a peek.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his hands sliding to grip her ass, his body rocking a bit as the vessel did a wobble.

“You’re defying gravity,” she informed him.

“Not exactly. I’ve just got better boots. They’re magnetic and tuned to the ship. If the ship rolls over a certain angle, they activate and stick to the floor.”

“That’s cheating.”

“How is wearing the right equipment cheating?”

“Because I don’t have a pair.” And she now coveted his.

He snorted. “Every time I expect you to say one thing, you completely throw me off and say another.”

“Don’t change the subject. We were discussing my employer needing to supply me with boots. It’s a workplace safety issue.”

“Couldn’t this wait until later? We’re kind of under attack.” As the ship finally settled in an upright position that didn’t make her stomach want to fall out of her nose, he lifted a hand and pointed behind her. “We avoided the first volley, and I, for one, intend to get strapped in before the next.”

“We will discuss this later,” she agreed, moving rapidly to her seat. “And don’t think I’ll forget.”

“I know you won’t,” he grumbled. It took him but a moment to take his captain spot and buckle in. “Annabelle, what the fuck is going on? How the hell did you let those raiders get so close to us?”