The next few moments are controlled chaos.

Holographic imaging provides us with a real-time map of her craft from our wrist units, and we step through the newly created portal into the dim, cramped cargo bay of her craft. The smell of melted metal and burned carbon fiber from the laser elicits a response in my warrior-trained body—every nerve on end, alert. I take a deep breath into my nostrils.

Lanz leads the way and I follow, a rhythm we’ve built together as a team over the solar cycles together as warrior partners. When we reach the main cabin, we both peer around the segment wall.

Lanz’ horns stiffen and I see her. The human—Lanz’ little warrior. Yes, I definitely see the appeal.

She’s beautiful—a mess of thick red hair tied over one shoulder reveals the slender column of her neck. Lanz’ fingerprints still stand out on it, as a gut-dropping reminder of her fragility.

She’s seated at a control panel intently watching three screens at once, her hands playing the controls. She’s intent on the Ocretion ship, which causes flashing red weapons go alerts to spring up on her monitors. Our craft, masked beyond the capabilities of her rudimentary navigation equipment, doesn’t even show on her screen. If she had better tech, she could find us with visual tracking.

Archer’s slaves—the ones she stole, huddle together on the floor, snuffling, the mother’s arms wrapped around the daughter. The area reeks of unwashed bodies and acrid fear, of old metal and heated electronics.

I assess her equipment at a glance. Some of the oldest tech available, cobbled together.

Veck. She doesn’t even have auto to help avoid asteroids! I raise my eyebrows. The skill that it must take for her to do this—

She senses us.

Her body stiffens and she leaps onto her feet facing us, so fast I barely see her change position. “Where did they come from?” she asks the sniveling humans.

Before they can answer, her ship shudders and lurches, and then the sound of the warning torpedo explodes in our eardrums.

“Brace yourself!” she cries out to the other humans, before she tumbles to the side, leaping into the air to avoid colliding with her archaic flight panel.

Lanz strides forward. “The Ocretions are attacking. That was their notification blast.”

Alarms blare, one loud and raucous, and red lights flash. An insidious hiss tells me the ship’s taken fatal damage. “Oxygen leak. We have eighteen minutes max before blackout.” My pulse pounds. “Th

e human lungs have barely five.”

“My craft isn’t built to withstand even a warning shot.” Her voice is tight. “This is a transport vessel, not a fighter.”

Archer’s order sounds, taut but calm, “Take the humans and vacate immediately to our craft.”

I’m face to face with her and I see what Lanz must’ve seen—forest green eyes, a bowtie mouth. Stark beauty on a fierce fighter. I could easily grab her, overpower her with my strength, but something in me wants to give her sovereignty—for at least a moment longer.

“There is no time for battle, little warrior.” I stare into her eyes. “Come with me immediately, or you will die.”

Intelligence flicks in her gaze, and she gives a curt nod. She turns to the slaves. “It’s all right. Go with them. It’s our best chance.”

Within moments, she and I are back through the opening, then Archer comes with the mother and daughter. But as Lanz adjusts the controls to close our portal, my heart drops.

Because an Ocretion climbs through it, behind them and jams a shock stick into the mechanism to prevent it from closing.

“Veck. Get rid of him.” I grab for my stun gun, next to my dagger.

Lanz raises his voice, “They lazed an entrance in the other side of her craft. They’re boarding it now.”

There’s no time to say how clever that is, because several more Ocretions burst into view behind the first one, the sulphurous stink of their sweat stinging my nostrils.

I’m about to fire, but the small child messes everything up. The small human slave.

Terror glazing her eyes, her body jerking like she’s having a seizure, she pulls away from her mother and runs. I watch in horror as the Ocretion scoops her up in his thick arms.

“Cassie!” the mother screams.

“Go.” He gestures to his crew. “Go. Go prepare.” They dissolve like smoke, fast, leaving only the one.

Tags: Renee Rose Zandian Brides Science Fiction
Source: readsnovelonline.net