Defying The Alliance (Novokin Alliance Invasion 1) (6 page)

Jaxx's face was a stone wall when he pointed up at the bridge's main viewer. "As you can see Captain, from this range we have only three possible targets. The first is a transport ship, said to be ferrying a class of 127 students with –."

I shot him a look that could curdle Charludian bat milk. "No way, Jaxx. I'm not attacking anything with children on it," I waved my hand, "next."

“Of course Captain,” he agreed, as his chest deflated from holding his breath and the muscles in his face relaxed. The Foxtopians, 15 sectors away heard his exasperated sigh of relief. Jaxx had made his objection to piracy loud, whiny and clear, when I informed the crew of our predicament and my intention to drop even lower on the ladder of morality. I sincerely doubted attacking a shipful of children gave Mr. impending daddy the warm fuzzies.

“This is hard on all of us, Commander. But we don’t have a choice,” I said gently, in front of the bridge crew. If we were to survive, I needed everyone to be on board. Any more objections had to be dealt with now.

“There is always a choice Captain,” he quipped, his voice tense.

“You’re right my friend,” I countered softly. “And I choose you. My responsibility is first to my crew, to you and to your unborn children. I promise you, we’ll find a way to make this work, and hopefully we won't make a habit of it.” I assured him, hoping to allay my conscience as much as my first officer’s.

Green fingers brushed over glistening eyes before he continued, "The other two are cargo ships,” he informed, waving his hand and the stats of two other ships filled the screen. “One is privately owned, and the other has an Alliance signature."

Trex’s massive form filled my peripheral vision, standing near the auxiliary station just behind and to the right of me. It turned out he knew quite a lot about running a ship, taking to the consul like a Bensothpian land-mite to salt. Not that anyone asked him to, but we needed all hands on deck so I decided to let him stay. He looked formidable, muscular and menacing as always.
Put a shirt on for prak's sake.
And of course, the card-table face was back on.

I threw my hand out to wave off the private cargo ship. "We're not out to hurt Joe'en Q. Public, so tell me about the Alliance ship."

I could feel Trex’s eyes boring holes on the side of my skull. His words played over and over in my mind. ‘You’re not a Protectorate Captain. Not anymore.’ I chanced a quick look, hoping to borrow some of his strength, his conviction.
Damn he was smoking hot.

“err...as I was saying Captain, the Alliance ship is a midsize Terring class. Cargo unknown. With an unsual level of defensive capabilities,” Jaxx uttered, arcing a single viridian eyebrow. Wow, his colors were sure intensifying in his second dimester. He'd be popping in a few weeks.

“This ship has ten times the standard armament allotted for its size,” he pointed out, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Understood. It’s still a go." I responded tersely, letting him and everyone else knew that I had already settled on this target.

My first officer continued unperturbed. "Their coordinates are just outside normal shipping lanes. If we leave them dead in space it'll be at least two days before someone happens upon them."

I nodded. This all sounded good so far, but apparently he wasn't finished.

"The problem is, they'll probably call in their position as soon as we approach."

I had of course considered this earlier, regardless of whatever ship we accosted. But at this stage in the game what choice did we have?

"That's a risk we'll have to take." I said pinching the bridge of my nose.

"There's a good chance that if they call for reinforcements Captain, we could have a fight on our hands." Jaxx cautioned as he turned to face me. The serious tone in his voice matched the somber expression he bore, foreign to his usually jovial face.

I tapped the arm rest of my chair reverently. "Then we'll see what this old Warbird has left in her," I uttered firmly with more confidence than I really felt.

And just like that, our mission parameters changed from flight to fight.

The cocking of a golden eyebrow coupled by a piercing, savage look from the auxiliary station made my knees weak and my chest flutter. His wild, golden-brown hair framed a strong neck and cascaded freely over the top of his muscular shoulders. He nodded in my direction, before he turned around to continue his work. It seemed, I had his approval. Well goody for me, now all was right with the universe. I tried to work up a good annoyance, but all I got was a sense of warmth that made me feel…safe.

"Helm," I said with renewed vigor, "set course and target that Alliance cargo vessel." I turned and pointed at Jaxx. "You, my big green friend, raise up the Jolly Roger. We're pirates now."

The chiseled faced commander was just about to raise the cup of cooled Carbathian peppermint tea to his lips when his helmsman broke the silence on the bridge. "Captain, there's an incoming call from the warship Gluxston."

"Hold." The commander raised his brows at the helm. "Who's ship is that?"

"It's Captain Asmot's Sir."

Skeck.
Gulping his tea, he chipped the half-empty cup hiding it in a nearby storage bin. He worked extremely hard to stay off the central command's radar. His intention to remain anonymous had worked to his advantage thus far. Nothing good ever came from his Alliance overlords, especially one that high up.

"Open."

The large visage of a purple skinned man filled the screen of his bridge. His perfectly coiffed hair, hard angular features and dark soulless eyes belied the façade of his casual attitude. "Commander Liam, so nice to see you again."

Liam flinched inwardly. While in command of a ship, the crew would refer to him as captain, as was proper with any vessel. However, since being absorbed into the unending glory that was the Novokin Alliance, his rank as a Terran had been reduced from captain to commander. Asmot made sure to remind him of that.

"Commander there's been a distress call from an important Alliance vessel in your sector. I am having coordinates sent to your navigational system right now. You are to provide assistance and detain the aggressors. I will be there shortly to personally collect the prisoners." That was very curious, the Alliance didn't detain anyone. Their unofficial motto was shoot first, then shoot again.

"Sir?"

"Yes Commander, these may be the hostiles you received a priority one communiqué about yesterday. They are considered very important to the Supreme Commander, and as such I’m ordering you to take them into custody until I arrive." Were his ears deceiving him or had a superior officer in the Novokin Alliance just explained his orders? Curiouser and curiouser. Then Captain Asmot leveled his gaze, his narrowing eyes belying his true contempt for the Terran.

"Is there a problem, Commander?"

"Of course not Sir. The coordinates and the call number of the vessel are coming through now. I'll be there shortly."

"See that you are." The image on the screen disappeared leaving only a view of the vast expanse of space in front of his ship.

What the prak is going on? Liam pushed a hand through the thick waves of his jet black hair. "Set a course for that vessel," he commanded to his helmsman. Who knows what they would find there.

“Are you ready Captain?” Lieutenant Cobbs hollered.

“Yes, we are. It’s a go,” I uttered after a quick glance around, making sure everyone was in position.

I covered my ears as the countdown started. Not exactly the most technologically savvy of methods, but with our limited budget three cans of Ursidiand Thermite, extra strength dishwashing detergent lit by a plasma fuse would have to do. Three – two – one.

BOOM!

The thick metal door exploded off at its hinges clanging and banging until it came to a screeching halt somewhere deep inside the cargo hold of the Alliance ship we had boarded.

"That should definitely take the fight out of them. Zero casualties would make me a very happy Captain." I intoned, shooting meaningful glares toward Trex and my lieutenants. Even with my ears plugged up, the noise had still been deafening. I'd be surprised if anyone inside the hold hadn't been rendered completely unconscious from the concussive force of the blast. Yay to the ensign's abnormal penchant for hording cleaning supplies. I’ll never question it again.

The Alliance ship had been relatively easy enough to subdue. Two well targeted light shots to their main engine, and they were dead in space. Which was very lucky considering my chief engineer’s extremely low estimates on our ship's weapons reserves. How did she put it? 'If the fight went beyond more than three shots at 49% power, we’d have to lean out the windows and throw reconstituted waste pellets at them.' 

Anya and her newly stocked engineering crew of recently liberated Novokin Alliance slaves were already busy stripping both the lower and upper decks of cargo, circuit boards, power couplings and anything Anya considered "necessary" to get the Razor into fighting shape. I wasn't sure how necessary the full-length platinum framed mirror, we found tightly packed away on the deck below was, but far be it for me to argue with my chief engineer.

The smoke cleared from the doorway and one of the lieutenants whistled. "I don't think this is a standard cargo hold Captain."

“No kidding Lieutenant,” I mumbled as we stood just inside the entrance of a ridiculously posh apartment. Every corner of the room was filled with lush sofas and daybeds, all lined with rich embroidered tapestries, animal furs and silks. Great paintings from the masters of my world, like Solera and Paluifs hung in gold and jewel encrusted frames, fighting for space on the walls of the massive studio apartment. A large ornately carved bar stood at the far corner of the room, next to a deep dark purple hot tub where priceless sculptures were reduced to acting as clothes hangers. I tried to keep my mouth from hanging agape as I took in the audacity of the room.

A faint growl next to me made me turn away from the stolen treasures of my planet. Trex’s hazel eyes focused on the far left end of the room. "Scatter!" he yelled, a second before Trex crushed me into his massive chest, throwing us both onto the floor behind a big, fat couch. Brilliant beams of light exploded over our position.

His rough voice whispered into my ear sending chills through me, “There are three armed men shooting at us with plasma rifles. They are standing in front of the bar. Another one is hiding in the hot tub. Does not appear to be armed, but can not be certain.” He lifted his head and looked me in the eye to make sure I understood. I nodded in the affirmative.

"Set your weapons to stun,” I ordered my crew. “No killings here today. I want to find out who in blue blazes we’re dealing with," I barked to my lieutenants, safely huddled behind the second largest couch in the room. I watched as multiple energy discharges tore overhead and peppered the wall behind us with black blast marks. My soul cringed when one of the Paluifs took a hit. I risked a glance around the thick lilac cushions of the fainting couch Trex and I now crouched behind.

“The weapons’ signature is Novokin,” he informed. Heat radiated from his dazzling face, barely an inch from mine.

“I realized that, but these are Terrans,” I uttered. The puzzling factor was that the shooters' skins lacked the telltale purple hue that screamed Novokin. These were Terrans.

We exchanged a volley of fire for a good five minutes. The more I thought about it, the more I knew casualties would be inevitable. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t bare to lose any more of my people. After three years, only nine of us were left, from a full complement of 150 souls. That pain was worse than death. And right then, the fear was gone, the anxiety of today's decision and our current situation melted off me like stingerhoney wax on a plasma coil. I leaned on my knee, as I would make the next shot count by–.

Strong, calloused hands spun me around and embraced me with a fevered urgency. Trex's luscious lips pressed hard on to mine, his tongue forced my lips open and probed my willing mouth, devouring me.
What the prak was he doing?
My brain screamed for me to push him away but my body refused to comply, held spellbound by the fierce passion of his kiss. I was overcome by irrational desire to simply let go and let this male possess me. Utterly, completely, right then and there.

He retreated slowly, seconds extended into what seemed like hours, his teeth tugging gently at the bottom of my lip. Leaving me breathless and stunned on the floor. Then he was gone.

I watched, unable to move, as his massive but lithe form vaulted over the couch, two chairs and then an end table. He absorbed blast after blast from the Novokin plasma rifles. With the grace of a dancer and the power and the ferocity of a jungle cat, he retched rifle after rifle from the enemy’s shaking hands. My heated core quivered with need at the sight of his deliciously toned body in action. Powerful muscles rippled under golden skin, working almost musically to disarm the men firing at us. I could almost feel those massive muscles of his contracting against mine, as his body claimed mine, his calloused hands stroking every part of my femininity with the same deft skill.

Whoa! Reality to Caspia!
I needed to get a hold of myself.
I’m in the middle of a fight and I’m the frigging Captain.
Have to stay focused.
Regardless, I was impressed he left them only with sore wrists, broken trigger fingers and one bloody nose. Not bad if you consider they were trying to kill us a minute ago.

I allowed myself a glance or two as a delicious half-naked Trex secured the prisoners and disabled their weaponry, dripping a whole lot of sexy while he did it. I wasn't sure whether to be angry with him, congratulate him or just have my way with him right then and there. The taste of him still lingered in my lips making it hard to think.

Fine, he may have succeeded in disarming the goons, and did so without anyone getting hurt, but he disregarded orders and went over my head. He manipulated the situation and acted on his own accord. His recklessness could have jeopardized this mission, and my crew’s survival. I couldn’t have that. He’d have to be dealt with. I was the Captain after all, albeit to seventeen people after we dropped the young Floturan girl off with a nice Floturan couple, on a nearby, terraformed agricultural asteroid. I was still the Captain. He’ll have to learn to abide by the rules and follow protocol, or I’ll have to break out the butt whooping.

The shrill cackles of what sounded like an angry Shridarian vole shook me out of my revelry.

A quick gesture and Lieutenant Dodson flanked my advance as we crept over to peer at whoever or whatever was causing a ruckus in the hot tub. Bubbles broke the surface of the dark purple tub and we both looked at each other.

“Should we wait for him to run out of air Captain?” My lieutenant asked clamping his lips, a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Before I had a chance to reply, a tiny, semi-bald, weasel looking man, burst out of the bubbling water gasping for air, wearing a barely-there micro strap of foil-colored cloth over his tiny man finger, tight enough to force his giggleberries to hang out, one from either side. I blanched while lieutenant Dodson turned his head and made a retching noise.

"Captain, my eyes! They're melting!" He feigned pain, covering his face with both his hands.

For prak’s sake. Protocol has really gone the way of the Gulurian dodo on my ship.

The wee, mostly naked Terran man, pushing 70 attempted to crawl out of the swirling tub looking very much like a drunk penguin trying to mount an ice-walrus.

"How dare you! How dare you attack me! Do you people know who you're dealing with?" His face flushed with anger. I offered no hand as he slipped on the edge, sputtering curses and clawed at the sides to get out. Once free, he approached me, wielding an ugly glare. The lieutenant snapped his rifle up, but I motioned for him to stand down. The tiny manlet stood just below my height. He pointed a gangly finger at me and repeatedly air poked me with it.

“I will have you executed on the spot for attacking a Novokin vessel, and destroying my apartment,” he threatened, frothing at the mouth. “Do you know what you’ve cost me today? And do you have any idea who I am?” He barked. Spittle flying everywhere.

I stepped close enough to smell the expensive alcohol on his fetid breath. "Oh I think I do. I recognize you,” I hissed, my upper lip curling up to unveil my pearly white canines.
Which are pretty impressive for a Terran, if I do say so myself.

“You're Ruten Flores, the previous Minister of education from New Astoria, under the Protectorate, if memory serves me right. Now I believe you are the Prime Minister of New Astoria, under the Novokin Alliance occupation."