Vaant (The Galaxos Crew Book 1) Page 3

  Griggs squeaked as Vrix's grip tightened, but she managed to wheeze, "I don't know what you're saying, Isla, but hell yeah. You tell 'em. Fucking losers and ball-less sacks of —"

  She cut off as Vrix gave her a tiny shake and muttered, "Such coarse language. Is that what they teach in your cute little Fleet academies?"

  "That's what they teach your mother —"

  The doors whooshed open just as Isla raised her voice and practically shouted at him. "If you were even partially a warrior, you wouldn't engage in this sort of piracy. And you are the worst sort of Xaravian, you —"

  He caught sight of the rest of his crew — all of his crew — waiting in the docking bay, listening with interest, as the interpreter unloaded some of the foulest cursing he'd ever heard in Low Xarav. And he'd spent his entire adult life in the military. His crew stared as the interpreter continued swearing and giving a remarkably inaccurate and biologically impossible rendering of his family tree, and their jaws dropped as Griggs renewed her efforts to get free.

  Vaant sighed and herded the cursing woman off the pod and into the docking bay, letting Vrix worry about the security officer. He might have been doing the Argo a favor by liberating all their women, because it looked like there were some interesting times ahead for the Galaxos.

  Chapter 5

  Isla

  Isla didn't remember much after the medical officer injected her with something, but brief flashes of awareness came to her as they ended up on a shabby departure pod and then suddenly she and Griggs were alone with two of the aliens. Alone.

  Panic rose in her throat along with bile, and she feared getting sick all over the pod, herself, and maybe the alien as well. Although that wouldn't have been a bad thing. Unless he was the violent type, and then there might be consequences for vomiting on him. At least she was with Griggs, and Griggs kept fighting. Just the sight of her friend struggling gave Isla the strength to stand up and tell that damn Xaravian exactly what she thought of them.

  She didn't have many opportunities to use Low Xarav or the whole encyclopedia of curses she'd learned, and it felt good to just let loose. She may have gone overboard, by the expression on the tall alien's face, and then by the faces of the crew who waited on his ship and overheard the latter half of her interpretation of the Xaravian's personal mating preferences.

  Even the big alien who struggled to restrain Griggs looked alarmed, though it was followed pretty quickly by unrestrained laughter. When Isla paused to take a breath, the security officer holding Griggs wiped silvery tears from his eyes and managed to hold back his guffaws long enough to say, "She's got your number, Vaant."

  "And here I thought she'd mistaken me for you." The big alien, Vaant, looked amused more than angry, and Isla started to wonder if she'd misused the curse words. She never got to practice them much, so it was possible she'd gotten the context completely wrong. Maybe she confused the syntax with High Xarav, which really...

  Before she could try again, Vaant's large hand slid around her arm and held her tight to his side as he stepped off the pod and into the docking bay. The rest of the crew backed up to give them room as Griggs squalled like a pissed-off tiger and flailed wildly even as the Xaravian security officer tried to keep her under control. Isla couldn't even get her legs to work right, staggering with each step the alien dragged her, so how Griggs managed enough coordination to fight was completely beyond her. She needed to learn Griggs’s secret.

  The rest of her female crewmates were also in the docking bay, looking sedated and uneasy as baggage was unloaded from the second departure pod. Isla's heart climbed to her throat when she saw her suitcase among them. So Witz and the others even packed up their things. They really didn't plan to rescue them. Witz just let the aliens take them.

  There didn't seem much reason to keep fighting, if that was the case. No one would be coming for them. The Xaravians weren't likely to let them escape, either, stranded in the middle of a wild quadrant on what could have been an illegal pirate ship. It suddenly grew difficult to breathe as she looked around at the full crew — all wild, all enormous and intimidating, and all of them staring at the women. There weren't any Xaravian women on the ship, not that she could see, which meant...

  Isla took a shaky breath. Her mother warned her about the dangers of space travel and serving in the Fleet, but she hadn't listened. She dreamed of the stars, and adventure, and faraway places with magical languages and intricate cultures. She'd never imagined being made a slave to some rebel alien captain.

  Vaant didn't release his hold on her arm as he addressed the rest of the women, using passable Earther with a strange accent. "I am certain you have questions. We can discuss the way ahead in the mess hall, but that requires that all of you behave yourselves."

  He shot a dark look at Griggs, who bared her teeth and made a valiant effort to knock her captor's legs out from under him. "You can go fuck yourself, and him, and him, and the engines, and every sandworm that ever —"

  Vaant sighed and nodded to his guy, who maneuvered a massive hand to the muscle right between Griggs's neck and shoulder, and pinched. She immediately dropped to the floor unconscious, face lax, and Isla bolted to her friend. Vaant's grip kept her back, and his tone softened as he said, "She's fine. Just asleep. It will last a few minutes only, and it is for her own safety."

  "She will never stop fighting." Isla tried to sound defiant, even as her own interest in struggle waned. The situation looked completely hopeless.

  "That's what I'm counting on," the big security officer said as he bent down to pick Griggs up, carrying her like a baby and not like a sack of potatoes as he had earlier.

  Isla stared at him, but by then the crew cleared a path and she and the others were herded deeper into the ship. It wasn't nearly as state of the art as the Argo, and appeared to be leaking fluids and gases in a variety of alarming places. She heard the chief engineer and technical officer, Rowan MacLeod, muttering under her breath with each additional issue she spotted, and by the time they reached what looked like a mess hall, Isla had serious doubts about the space-worthiness of the vessel. Maybe they wouldn't live long enough to regret being given to the Xaravians — their ship looked like it would come apart any moment.

  In the mess, Vaant dropped her in a chair that didn't have any major stains on it, and took the one right next to it as the other women and a few of the officers filed into the room. The security officer carefully put Griggs in a chair and then immediately tied her arms and legs to the furniture that was bolted to the floor.

  Rowan couldn't take it another second; Isla saw her logical mind turning over and over, trying to understand the change of circumstances. "What the hell is going on?"

  "When we boarded the Argo, we —"

  "They threatened the captain," Isla blurted out. She mostly remembered what happened once she arrived on the bridge, and that seemed about right. Witz wouldn't have just given them away. "This brute threatened Witz, said he'd destroy the Argo if Witz didn't give him all the women on the ship."

  The security officer looked more irritated than anything. "That's —"

  "Close to truth," Vaant said, shooting the other guy a dark look. "Fine. We took you off that ship, and you're not going back. We expect you to pitch in with the running of this ship, as we keep a skeleton crew on board. If you've earned your room and board, after a certain amount of time we'll consider allowing you to join a different ship."

  Rowan frowned. "But —"

  "Not a Fleet ship. You won't be going back to any Alliance planets, either."

  "Why?" Isla scowled at him. "Because you don't want to be labeled slave traders?"

  "Among other reasons, yes." Vaant hardly blinked at the accusation, and Isla started to wonder if he'd done this before. Maybe it was how he kept his crew in line, a revolving door of women. She wanted to scrub the skin off her arm where he'd touched her — imagine finding him good-looking and even reassuring. It was like she'd dreamed him carrying her and whispering reassuranc
es.

  He folded his arms over his chest. "I am Vaant, the captain of this ship. Over there is my security chief, Vrix. We will identify secure quarters for you all to share until we can determine more appropriate arrangements. Please identify yourselves by rank and specialty."

  Rowan's narrowed eyes nearly threw sparks of rage as she watched him. "Chief Technical Officer First Class Rowan MacLeod. Engineering."

  The youngest of the women, the medic and a brand-new doctor, huddled close to Rowan and the legal officer and refused to look at the aliens. "Dr. Maisy Cunningham. Junior medical officer."

  "Violet Newfield," the dark-haired lawyer said, scowling at Vaant as she put her arm around Maisy. "Chief Legal Counsel. You're breaking so many laws I don't know where to start."

  "Great," Vaant said. "Since I don't recognize the authority of the Alliance, I don't give a damn about their laws. But I look forward to learning how to avoid them."

  His attention turned to the last woman, whose blonde hair stayed pinned up despite the chaos of the day. She gave him a chilly look. "First Officer and cultural attaché, Jessalyn Barnes. I didn't think the Xaravian warrior code permitted the taking of slaves. Imagine what your mothers would say if they saw this."

  "Unfortunately, our mothers were murdered by Fleet attack ships," Vrix said without expression. "And you should know better than anyone else that the warrior code doesn't apply when fighting cowards and charlatans. You are guilty of your captain's crimes by association."

  Jess drew herself up to really shred him, but Isla didn't want any more trouble. They needed to get to their quarters, go through the luggage to figure out if they had any weapons or means of communication, and come up with a plan. Threatening those bastards when they clearly had the upper hand wouldn't get them anywhere. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Isla Lennox, interpreter. And that is Senior Security Officer, Commander Cecily Griggs."

  "Cecily," Vrix said, more amused as he gazed at the still-unconscious Griggs. "It does not accurately reflect her personality. That is entertaining."

  "She'll reflect her personality all over your ass as soon as she wakes up," Rowan muttered. She shoved to her feet. "We require officers' quarters secured from any peeping toms and perverts, as well as two medical kits and our belongings. Immediately."

  "You're not really in a position to make demands," Vaant said. He leaned back in his chair and Isla was suddenly very aware of how much space he took up and how the air warmed around him. "But since I'm feeling magnanimous, very well. You will be shown to your quarters. You will not be able to escape. Do not try. I will send someone to summon you for the evening meal."

  The other women rose and Vrix started to free Griggs's limbs from the restraints. Isla meant to stand up immediately, but couldn't quite get her body to cooperate, still a little shaky from everything that had happened. Before she could gather the strength to rise, Vaant caught her arm once more.

  And again the easy strength of his grip and the intense heat of their connection raced through her. It almost knocked her down again. His skin swirled with blue and green as he looked at her, helping her to stay upright, and Jessalyn's eyes narrowed as she watched the Xaravian. Isla knew she needed to ask the cultural expert what it meant when their skin turned colors. The instructors hadn't covered that in the language academy.

  Isla's cheeks started to burn as if heat consumed her from the inside out. She couldn't move, staring up at Vaant, and got lost in the shimmering silver eyes. She could have stood there forever, mesmerized, as Vaant whispered a few lines of a famous Xaravian poem — a warrior's ode to his homeland, or a man's ode to his beloved, depending on how one translated it from High to Middle and Low.

  Someone caught her other arm. Jessalyn said, "Let's go."

  The spell broke and Isla could move again. She cleared her throat and tried to scowl at the Xaravian as she linked arms with the cultural attaché and got a little space. She didn't know the Xaravians had mind tricks as well as all their combat skills. Something else for her to ask Jessalyn. She had to lean on the other woman more than she wanted, but at least she didn't have to lean on the tall alien. Regardless of how nice he smelled and the heat that rushed through her in a remarkably pleasant — and completely unfamiliar — manner.

  Vaant didn't try to touch her again as he led the way out of the mess and into another hall. Isla held tighter to Jess's arm as the ship lurched and then definitely began to move. With every passing moment, they got farther and farther away from the Argo and any hope of rescue and a return to their normal lives. She tried to breathe normally and focus on the things they could do. Between the six of them, they'd be able to formulate a plan.

  Chapter 6

  Vaant

  Vaant made sure the women were in two separate rooms in the busiest part of the ship, and had Vrix set a guard outside just in case the engineer figured out how to open the locked doors. He'd very much underestimated all of the humans, and that wouldn't happen again. Vaant learned from his mistakes.

  But the look on the interpreter's face when she claimed that Vaant threatened the Argo captain with destruction drove him to agreeing with her, since disclosing that the bastard captain offered them up unsolicited might have pushed the women over the edge entirely. Once Vaant and his crew could show them how corrupt the Alliance actually was, the humans would thank him. They'd want to join the crew and the ship permanently, and Vaant could woo that fierce interpreter properly.

  Vaant finally reached the bridge and took over from his navigator and second-in-command, Trazzak. The navigator double-checked the course and adjusted his uniform, not looking at Vaant as he spoke. "Heard you returned with some interesting... cargo."

  "You could say that." Vaant ignored the implied question, since no doubt Vrix would trade the full story for drinks later, and eased into the captain's chair. "Set a course to follow the Argo. I don't know what that captain is up to, but I doubt it's altruistic. Hail any rebel ships in the vicinity as well. We need to warn them about that ship."

  The chief engineer, Frrar, walked in, frowning at a tablet he carried. "We've identified a slight problem with the generator, Captain. I'm working on a fix, but we may need to stop for parts at the next space port."

  "We're following the Argo. They've been out of our tracking for too long. If there's a convenient waystation as we go, we can stop."

  "So when the generator fails and the engines no longer work, we'll just drift in space and hope to keep up with an Einstein-class Fleet battleship?" Frrar nodded and made a note on the tablet. "Right. Seems reasonable."

  "They're up to something," Vaant said. "I know they are. We're not going to let them get away with destroying another planet's economy and tech development."

  The other officers shared looks, but Vaant ignored them. The Galaxos pursued the Alliance ship for what felt like forever, waiting for a sign of the Argo's destination. The Argo paused only briefly, and the Galaxos hung back to avoid being detected. No telling what that dirt-bag captain would do if he figured out the Galaxos pursued them instead of going the other way, like they'd promised after taking the women.

  Just as the Argo moved off, setting their engines for faster-than-light travel, a distress call faintly disrupted all hailing frequencies. Vaant frowned, glancing back at the communications officer. "What ship is that?"

  "I can't understand them," Frrar said when the comms officer couldn't answer, a module held to his ear as he tried to decipher the garbled words. Frrar handed the set back to the comms officer and went to check the radar. "It looks like a civilian ship, though."

  As the Galaxos slowed, the Argo went faster and disappeared out of their view entirely. For a brief moment, Vaant considered ignoring the distress call and staying with the Argo, but he quickly dismissed the urge. Any decent captain would never ignore another ship in trouble — which was why the Argo kept going instead of following the Alliance's laws about aiding civilian ships.

  He sighed. "Change course. We'll catch the Argo later." Vaant
listened to the tangled distress call, repeating over and over, and glanced back at Vrix. "Bring that interpreter up here. Maybe she can translate for us."

  "Maybe." The security officer smirked a little more than strictly necessary, but he left the bridge without another word.

  The distress call grew clearer, but no more intelligible as they approached the ship. By the time they were within visual range, Vrix returned with the interpreter. She scowled fiercely, about to say something cutting no doubt, but the distress call filled the silence on the bridge and she froze. Her head tilted and Vaant imagined her ears perking up, and as Isla's eyes half-closed, she took a deep breath.

  She marched over to the communications station and picked up the radio, over the objections of the officer sitting there, and started talking. Vaant and the others watched her as the garbled words poured out of her mouth as well, and Vaant started to worry about what she might be telling the other ship.

  "Who are they?" he asked.

  Isla waved her hand to dismiss him, squinting as she concentrated on the return message. She finally looked at Vaant. "They're from Delphinus Borealis, fleeing some fighting there. They were attacked by a fast-moving ship not long ago and have injuries and significant damage to all life support systems on their ship. We need to move fast."

  "We will be there in ten minutes."

  "We need to move faster," she said. "Their navigation systems are down as well. They won't be able to breathe in eight minutes, and their shields will completely fail in six. The survivors will be sucked into space."

  Vaant nodded to Trazzak. "Do it. Get us there in less than five."

  "Aye aye," he said, and started working the controls.

  Vaant caught the back of his chair for balance as the ship leapt forward, and resisted the urge to jump to Isla's aid as she stumbled and fell against the wall. He set off the alert inside the ship and used the communicator to address the crew. "All crewmembers to the docking bay with emergency survival suits. We have a civilian ship requiring assistance. Life support systems are severely damaged and passengers have sustained injuries. Prepare for triage in the medical bay. Engineering, repair life support and survival shields as the first priority upon linking with the damaged ship."